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ROMAIN   HOLLAND 

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HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK  CITY 


THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 


Translated  from  the  French  of 
ROMAIN   ROLLAND 

Author  of  Jean-Christophe,  the  plays  The  Fourttenth  of  July 
and  Danton,  etc. ,  etc. 

BY 

BARRETT  H.   CLARK 

Translator  of  Sardou*s  Patrie,  Three  Modern  Plays  from  thi 

French,  etc. ,  etc. ;  author  of  British  and  American 

Drama  of  To-day,  etc. 


•  •  •     • 

•  •  •  *    ♦  * 

•  *, 


NEW   YORK 

HENRY  HOLT  AND   COMPANY 
1918 


Copyright,  1918, 

BY 

HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 


THC   QUINN    «    eODEN    CO.    PRMS 
RAHWAV,    N.   J. 


CO 


\'C 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE 

Before  the  manuscript  of  this  translation  was 

sent  to  press  it  was  forwarded  to  M.  Rolland  for  his 

approval.     As  neither  my  publisher  nor  I  knew  the 

^     whereabouts  of  M.  Rolland  and  as  we  had  merely 

oc     heard  that  he  had  left  France  not  long  after  the 

CQ  .        .  . 

J^     publication  of  his  war  pamphlet  Au-dessus  de  la 

Melee  and  was  residing  in  a  sort  of  exile,  we  were 

^    by  no  means  sure  that  the  typoscript  or  our  letters 

OT    would  reach  him.     But  we  tried,  sending  them  in 

care  of  his  Paris  publisher, 

M.  Rolland  was  finally  located,  and  we  began  a 
correspondence  from  which  I  shall  use  certain  parts 
to  illustrate  this  brief  preface. 

In  my  original  preface  to  the  present  volume  I 
had  referred  to  M.  Rolland's  having  retired  from 
public  life  and  being  temporarily  crushed,  but  the 
first  letter  I  received  convinced  me  beyond  a  doubt 
that  he  was  far  from  it.  He  would  never 
consent  to  the  publication  of  any  translation  of  his 
works  without  first  seeing  that  it  rendered  faith- 
fully the  spirit  of  the  original.  He  did  not  care 
even  to  discuss  terms,  and  he  added,  by  way  of 
proof  of  his  commercial  disinterestedness,  that  the 
proceeds  of  the  Nobel  Prize,  of  which  he  was  the 
recipient  not  long  ago,  and  which  amounted  to  over 
$40,000,  he  had  spent  in  works  of  charity. 


Ill 


27d1 ^7 


iv  TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE 

The  manuscripts  were  therefore  sent  to  him  to 
Villeneuve,  in  Switzerland.  I  asked  him  to  look 
them  over,  returning  only  the  pages  on  which  he 
wished  to  make  corrections.  A  month  later  I  re- 
ceived a  letter,  from  which  I  quote  the  most  notable 
passages.  It  contained  one  page  of  the  typescript 
of  The  People's  Theater — from  my  brief  preface. 

I  ought  first  to  explain  that  three  years  ago  I 
spent  an  afternoon  with  a  friend  who  had  recently 
visited  M.  Rolland.  He  told  me  at  the  time  that  the 
author  of  Au-dessus  de  la  Melee  seemed  disheart- 
ened by  the  weight  of  the  great  war.  It  was  this 
hint,  together  with  the  fact  that  after  diligent  search 
I  could  find  no  record  of  anything  new  from  his 
pen,  that  led  me  to  write  the  paragraph  to  which  our 
author  refers  in  his  letter.  Let  me  quote  a  short 
passage  from  my  original  preface: 

"  The  People's  Theater  is  more  than  the  exposi- 
tion of  a  theory;  it  is  autobiography  of  a  sort. 
Readers  and  lovers  of  Jean-Christophe  will  find  in 
this  less  ambitious  work  certain  hitherto  unknown 
aspects  of  the  soul  of  the  creator  of  that  monu- 
mental work.  True,  this  *  work  of  combat '  is 
youthful,  but  there  is  something  attractive  in  the 
naive  impetuosity  with  which  the  young  revolution- 
ary sets  to  work  demolishing  the  idols  of  the  past 
and  attempting  to  clear  the  field  for  a  saner,  more 
robust,  and  healthier  drama,  and  a  theater  where  the 
workingman  and  his  family  may  seek  relaxation 
and  find  food  for  mind  and  soul. 

"  The  years  have  brought  maturity  to  Remain 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE  v 

Rolland  and  a  touch  of  scepticism;  the  weight  of 
the  great  war  has  for  the  time  being  crushed  him; 
but  a  man  who  could  so  bravely  combat  prejudice, 
tradition,  and  hatred  as  he,  need  fear  nothing  from 
the  future." 

The  letter  from  M.  Rolland,  dated  Villeneuve, 
May  15,  1918,  reads  as  follows: 

"  Dear  Monsieur  :  I  received  the  proofs  of  your 
translations,  which  gave  me  great  pleasure  in  read- 
ing. They  seem  to  offer  a  faithful  rendering  of  the 
text.  Perhaps  certain  expressions  in  Danton  are 
occasionally  softened  [a  literal  translation  would, 
however,  have  rendered  them  harsher  to  Anglo- 
Saxon  ears  than  the  author  intended],  but  I  am  not 
altogether  sure  about  this.  I  see  no  important  ob- 
servation to  make,  and  you  may  therefore  proceed 
with  the  publication  of  the  plays — Danton  and  The 
Fourteenth  of  July.  .    .    . 

"  Regarding  the  preface  to  The  People's  Theater, 
I  thank  you.  However,  I  seriously  object  to  certain 
sentences  (on  page  9).  First,  when  you  say  'this 
work  of  combat  is  youthful  .  .  .  naive  impetuosity 
.  .  .  the  young  revolutionary.  .  .  .  The  years  have 
brought  maturity  to  R.  R.  and  a  touch  of  scep- 
ticism ' — you  seem  to  think  that  since  I  wrote  the 
book  I  have  changed  my  opinions  of  the  works  and 
the  authors  whom  I  criticized.  Nothing  of  the 
kind.  I  still  would  demolish  those  '  idols  '  today 
with  the  same  enthusiasm. 

"  Second,  I  unqualifiedly  protest  against  the  sen- 
tence *  the  weight  of  the  great  war  has  for  the  time 


vi  TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE 

being  crushed  him.'  Crushed!  Not  in  the  least, 
my  dear  sir.  [The  original  is  delightfully  apt: 
Niillement  ccrase,  cher  monsieur!']  I  have  never 
felt  so  alert  and  combative  as  at  the  present  mo- 
ment. I  am  merely  gagged!  It  is  quite  impossible 
now  for  me  to  make  public  my  ideas,  because  they 
are  too  liberal.  During  the  past  two  years  of  the 
war  I  have  written  an  Aristophanic,  satirico-poetic 
comedy  on  the  events  of  the  day,  called  L'Ane  de 
Buridan.  I  am  writing  two  novels,  likewise  in- 
spired by  present-day  events  and  dealing  with  char- 
acters of  the  epoch.  One  is  a  '  novel  of  medita- 
tion'  entitled  L'Un  contre  tons.  Many  Swiss 
papers  have  published  extracts  from  it,  though  it 
is  not  yet  complete.  The  other  is  a  novel  of  young 
love. 

"  *  Add  to  these  a  Rabelaisian  novel,  the  hero 
of  which,  a  native  of  Burgundy,  like  myself,  gives 
his  name  to  the  book :  Colas  Brugnon.  This  is  fin- 
ished, and  was  even  printed  in  July,  19 14;  it  awaits 
publication  in  the  office  of  Ollendorff,  my  Paris  pub- 
lisher, until  the  end  of  the  war,  for  I  am  loath  to 
have  its  gaiety  made  public  amid  the  sorrows  of  the 
present  time.  And,  finally,  I  am  writing  numerous 
literary  and  philosophical  articles,  as  well  as  essays 
on  current  events.  These  appear  in  the  Swiss 
magazines — which  do  not  reach  America.  What- 
ever the  value  of  these  various  efforts,  you  will 
agree,  when  you  read  them,  that  the  war  has  not 
in  the  least  depressed  me.  On  the  contrary,  my 
ideas  differ  from  those  current  nowadays,  but  that 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE  vii 

does  not  bother  me.  I  am  only  the  freer  to  judge 
all  things,  and  freedom  of  soul  is  dearer  to  me  than 
happiness  itself. 

"  It  is  true  that  today  I  care  much  more  than  I 
did  ten  years  ago  for  Voltaire  (the  Voltaire  of  the 
Contes  philosophiqucs) ,  and  for  Erasmus  and  Mon- 
taigne. But  not  because  of  their  scepticism  (you 
speak  of  'a  touch  of  scepticism');  their  free  and 
open  irony  furnishes  me  with  a  weapon  against 
prejudice,  convention,  and  the  idols  of  society.  I 
feel  that  that  combat  must  be  fought  again  today. 

"  I  authorize  you  to  make  use  of  the  explanations 
in  this  letter,  if  you  deem  them  interesting  or  use- 
ful. 

"  Yours,  etc., 

**  ROMAIN  ROLLAND." 

A  note  appended  to  the  page  of  my  preface 
enclosed  in  the  above  letter  is  well  worth  quoting, 
as  it  throws  some  light  on  M.  Rolland's  present 
attitude  toward  war : 

"  The  only  play  I  have  written  since  The  Four- 
teenth of  July  (with  the  exception  of  the  Aristo- 
phanic  comedy  elsewhere  referred  to)  is  Le  Temps 
viendra.  It  is  to  be  reprinted  .  .  .  after  the  war. 
The  problems  with  which  it  is  concerned  [it  was 
laid  in  South  Africa  during  the  Boer  war]  have 
once  again  assumed  an  air  of  actuality ;  and  if  I 
have  not  reprinted  it  during  the  past  few  years 
.  .  .  it  is  because  I  wished  to  prevent  the  various 
*  parties  '  using  as  a  polemic  weapon  a  work  written 


viii  TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE 

ten  years  before  the  present  war.  It  was  directed 
(as  I  state  in  the  preface)  not  against  one  particular 
European  nation,  but  against  the  whole  of  European 
civilization." 

M.  Rolland  has  rendered  further  comment,  I 
think,  unnecessary.  It  is  sufficient  only  to  state  that 
Le  Theatre  du  peuple  was  a  polemic  against  the  con- 
vention-ridden theater  and  drama  of  the  day,  and  a 
work  of  inspiration  for  those  who  believed  that  the 
theater  ought  to  be  a  place  of  recreation  as  well  as 
education — in  the  broadest  sense — for  all  people,  in 
particular  the  working  classes. 

The  chapters  originally  appeared  as  articles  in  the 
Revue  d'art  dramatique,  between  1900  and  1903. 

Le  Theatre  du  peuple  contains  an  appendix,  quot- 
ing many  documents  of  the  French  Revolution  bear- 
ing upon  the  subject  of  popular  festivals.  With  M. 
Rolland's  permission  I  have  omitted  the  appendix. 

In  a  very  few  instances  I  have  taken  the  liberty 
of  expanding  the  author's  chapter-headings,  to  guide 
the  reader  in  search  of  particular  topics. 

Barrett  H.  Clark. 

Headquarters,  Camp  Humphreys, 

Virginia. 

June  22,  1918. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Translator's  Preface .,     i.      iii 

Author's  Introduction 3 

PART  I 
THE  THEATER  OF  THE  PAST 

CHAPTER 

I      MoLliRE II 

n    Classic  Tragedy 16 

HI    The  Romantic  Drama 28 

IV    The  Bourgeois  Drama 34 

V  Foreign    Plays,    Greek    Drama,    Shakespeare, 

Schiller,   Wagner 38 

VI  Plays  of  the  Past  Offer  No  More  than  a  Series 
OF  Popular  Readings.  No  Material  for  a 
People's  Theater.    Readings  Not  Enough,  We 

Must  Have  a  Theater 45 

VII    The  Trknte  ans  db  TeHtrb  and  Popular  Galas      49 

PART  II 

I    Precursors  of  the  People's  Theater:  Rousseau, 
Diderot,   The   French   Revolution,   Michelet, 
Earliest  Experiments  in  the  People's  Theater      63 
II    The  New  Theater.    Moral  and  Physical  Con- 
ditions        99 

III  Types  of  People's  Drama:  Melodrama  .       .       .     n8 

IV  Types  of  People's  Drama  :  Historical  Drama     .     124 

V  Other  Types  of   People's   Drama:   The  Social 

Play,  Rustic  Drama,  Legends  and  Tales,  The 
Circus I3i 


THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 


AUTHOR'S  INTRODUCTION 

The  People  and  the  Theater 

A  CURIOUS  phenomenon  has  occurred  during  the 
past  ten  years.  French  art,  the  most  aristocratic  of 
arts,  has  come  to  recognize  the  masses.  French 
artists  have,  of  course,  known  of  the  existence  of 
the  people  before,  but  they  have  considered  them 
only  as  subjects  of  conversation,  as  material  for 
novels,  plays,  or  pictures. 

"  An  admirable  subject  to  treat  in  Latin  verses." 
But  they  never  took  the  people  into  account  as  a 
living  entity,  a  public,  or  a  judge.^  The  progress 
of  Socialism  has  directed  the  attention  of  artists  to 
this  new  sovereign  whose  politicians  up  to  the  pres- 
ent had  been  its  sole  spokesmen :  authors  and  actors. 
And  they  have  discovered  the  people — discovered,  I 
venture  to  say,  in  much  the  same  manner  as  ex- 
plorers discover  a  new  market  for  their  wares.  The 
authors  wish  to  import  their  plays,  the  State  its 
repertory,  actors,  and  officials.  It  is  a  comedy  in 
itself,  with  a  part  for  each.  This  is  not  a  fit  subject 
for  irony,  for  no  one  is  quite  exempt  from  its 
shafts.  And  we  must  take  men  as  they  are,  nor 
seek  to  discourage  their  conscious  or  unconscious 

'The  poet  Rodenbach  wrote:  "Art  is  not  for  the  peo- 
ple. ...  To  make  the  people  understand  it,  art  would  have 
to  be  brought  down  to  their  level." 

3 


4  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

efforts  to  combine  personal  with  public  gain — pro- 
vided the  latter  is  assured.  But  such  is  the  case; 
and  from  this  movement  which  progresses  so 
quickly  that  bad  is  bound  to  come  hand  in  hand 
with  good,  and  personal  with  public  profit,  I  wish 
to  call  attention  to  but  two  points :  first,  the  sudden 
importance  assumed  by  the  people  in  art  (or  rather, 
the  importance  ascribed  to  the  people,  for  they 
never  speak  for  themselves;  everyone  assumes  the 
role  of  spokesman  for  them) ;  and  second,  the 
extraordinary  diversity  of  opinion  as  to  the  nature 
of  democratic  art  itself. 

In  fact,  among  those  who  claim  to  represent  the 
aims  of  the  people's  theater,  there  are  two  diametri- 
cally opposed  ideals :  the  adherents  of  the  first  seek 
to  give  the  people  the  theater  as  it  now  exists,  any 
theater  so  long  as  it  is  a  theater;  those  of  the  second 
attempt  to  extract  from  this  new  force,  the  people, 
an  entirely  new  theater.  The  first  believe  in  the 
Theater,  the  others  in  the  People.  The  two  have 
nothing  in  common :  one  is  the  champion  of  the  past, 
the  other  of  the  future. 

I  need  not  tell  you  where  the  State  stands.  By 
its  very  definition,  the  State  always  belongs  to  the 
past.  No  matter  how  new  the  forms  of  life  it  rep- 
resents, it  arrests  and  congeals  them.  But  you  can- 
not fix  life  once  for  all.  It  is  the  function  of  the 
State  to  petrify  everything  with  which  it  comes  into 
contact,  and  turn  living  into  bureaucratic  ideals.^ 

^  Since  these  lines   were  written,   time  has   confirmed  my 
fears.    The  interference  of  the  State  in  projects  for  popular 


AUTHOR'S  INTRODUCTION  5 

This  point  has  been  well  borne  out,  occasionally, 
by  the  CEuvre  des  Trente  ans  de  Theatre.  Thanks 
to  its  intelligent  promoter,  M.  Adrien  Bernheim,  the 
classics  have  been  produced  in  the  outlying  districts 
of  Paris  by  actors  from  the  great  subventioned  the- 
aters. But  at  once  M,  Bernheim  and  his  friends 
declare :  "  The  People's  Theater  is  founded !  "  In- 
deed? Re-baptize  the  bourgeois  theater  as  the 
People's  Theater!  That  is  all!  And  so  nothing 
has  been  changed;  art  alone  is  to  remain  stationary 
amid  an  ever-changing  society;  we  are  forever  con- 
demned to  adhere  to  a  lifeless  ideal,  to  a  theater 
whose  thoughts,  style,  acting,  possess  nothing  vital, 
to  the  degenerate  tradition  of  a  house  of  mummers  I 

Later  on  I  shall  give  my  opinion  of  the  Trente 
ans  de  Theatre  enterprise,  and  try  to  refer  to  it  with 
all  the  respect  due  to  any  sincere  and  generous  at- 
tempt of  that  kind.  But  this  attempt  assumes  a  con- 
fidence in  the  essential  rightness  of  our  civilization 
in  general  and  our  theater  in  particular  which  I  for 
one  am  far  from  sharing ;  and  I  shall  do  my  best  to 
destroy  the  illusion.  I  am  well  aware  that  it  is 
shared  by  the  thinking  classes  of  today,  but  this  only 
proves  what  we  have  known  for  some  time :  that  the 
thinking  classes  cannot  be  depended  upon.  In  vain 
they  strive  to  change :  but  they  are  essentially  con- 
servative, they  belong  to  the  past,  they  can  produce 
no  new  society  or  art :  they  will  disappear. 

Life  cannot  be  linked  with  death,  and  the  art  of 

theaters  has  put  an  end  to  them  by  the  introduction  of  ruin- 
ous changes. 


6  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

the  past  is  more  than  three-quarters  dead.  This  is 
true  not  only  of  our  French  art,  but  of  all  art.  The 
art  of  the  past  does  not  satisfy  us  nowadays,  and  its 
effects  are  often  detrimental.  The  first  requisite  to 
a  normal  healthy  existence  is  that  art  shall  contin- 
ually evolve  together  with  life  itself. 

I  do  not  know  whether  the  society  of  today  will 
create  its  own  art,  but  I  am  sure  that  if  it  fails  to  do 
so,  we  shall  have  no  living  art,  only  a  museum,  a 
mausoleum  wherein  sleep  the  embalmed  mummies  of 
the  past.  We  have  been  educated  to  respect  the 
memory  of  what  has  been,  and  we  find  it  exceed- 
ingly difficult  to  tear  ourselves  loose.  The  past  is 
wrapped  in  a  haze  of  poetry,  which  softens  every- 
thing to  the  indistinctly  melting  outlines  of  a  dis- 
tant view.  But  from  these  beautiful  forms  which 
once  throbbed  with  vitality,  the  life  has  faded,  or  is 
fading  from  day  to  day.  And  if  even  a  few  master- 
pieces, more  robust  than  the  rest,  still  wield  some  of 
their  pristine  power  over  us,  I  am  not  sure  that 
that  power  is  beneficial  nowadays.  Nothing  is  good 
except  in  its  place  and  time.  You  may  believe  that 
the  good  and  the  beautiful  are  absolute  unchanging 
entities ;  but  modes  of  expression  vary  according  to 
each  human  mind ;  and  the  forms  which  were  charm- 
ing and  noble  in  one  century  are  more  than  likely, 
when  carried  over  into  another,  to  appear  monstrous 
anachronisms.  One  of  the  dangers  of  art  pointed 
out  by  Tolstoy  arises  perhaps  from  the  fact  that 
the  forces  of  another  day,  when  brought  into  an 
epoch  where  they  do  not  belong,  occasion  serious 


AUTHOR'S  INTRODUCTION  7 

disorders.     It  is  not  only  in  the  domain  of  ethics 
that  "  a  meridian  decides  the  truth  "  and  "  a  river 
fixes  the  boundary  ";  it  is  the  same  in  art.     Certain 
ages  proscribed  all  representation  of  the  nude,  not 
only  on  moral  but  esthetic  grounds.     The  sculptors 
of  the  Middle  Age  shunned  the  naked  body  as  a 
thing  deformed,  believing  that  "  clothing  was  neces- 
sary to  bodily  grace."     The  painters  of  the  School 
of  Giotto  found  "  no  perfect  proportion  "  ^  in  the 
female  body.     The  men  of  the  seventeenth  century 
who  knew  most  about   Gothic  architecture,^   con- 
demned it  for  the  identical  reasons  which  render  it 
most   beautiful   in   our   eyes.      A   genius   of    the 
eighteenth  century^  considered  it  an  insult  to  be 
compared    with     Shakespeare.      A    great    Italian 
painter*  spoke  of  Flemish  art  in  derision,  saying 
that  it  was  "  good  for  women,  priests,  and  other 
pious  people."     Tolstoy's  Moujik  is  disgusted  with 
the  Venus  of  Milo.     It  is  possible  that  what  is  beau- 
tiful to  the  cultured  few  may  seem  ugly  to  the 
people,  and  that  it  fails  to  satisfy  their  needs,  which 
are  as  legitimate  as  our  own.     Let  us  not  blindly 
seek  to  impose  upon  the  people  of  the  twentieth  cen- 
tury the  art  and  thought  of  the  aristocratic  society 
of  the  past.     And  besides,  the  People's  Theater  has 
more  important  work  to  do  than  to  collect  the  frag- 
ments of  the  bourgeois  theater.     It  is  not  our  inten- 
tion to  increase  the  audiences  of  the  established  the- 
aters; we  are  not  working  for  them:  we  have  only 

'  Cennino  Cennini,  in  1437.  *  Gluck. 

'  Fenelon.  *  Michelangelo. 


8  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

to  think  of  the  welfare  of  art  and  of  the  people. 
One  needs  be  a  great  optimist  to  believe  that  the 
general  diffusion  of  artistic  culture,  taken  as  a 
whole,  has  anything  to  do  with  our  plans. 

Let  us  be  brave  enough  to  combat  the  proud  super- 
stitions clinging  to  that  precious  art  of  ours  in  which 
we  take  so  much  pride.  Let  us  now  see  whether 
in  all  the  dramatic  impedimenta  of  the  past  there  is 
anything  for  the  people.  And  if  we  find  nothing, 
let  us  be  frank  enough  to  confess  it,  without  fear  or 
prejudice. 


PART  I 
THE  THEATER  OF  THE  PAST 


CHAPTER  I 

MOLIERE 

I  BEGIN  by  agreeing  that  we  have  the  elements  of 
a  popular  comic  drama;  of  this  Moliere  is  the  key- 
stone. In  some  ways  he  apparently  belongs  more 
to  the  people  than  to  the  bourgeosie.  The  ideas  of 
our  class  are  not  always  in  perfect  accord  with 
Moliere's.  If  we  were  frank,  we  should  sometimes 
confess  to  a  feeling  of  revulsion,  antipathy,  which 
we  none  the  less  restrain  for  fear  of  making  our- 
selves ridiculous  by  criticizing  a  classic.  Our  animal 
spirits  have  so  decreased  that  we  take  little  pleasure 
in  the  rough-and-tumble  exploits  of  a  Scapin  or  a 
Sbrigani,  beatings  and  clysters,  vulgar  exhibitions, 
and  above  all  in  the  brutal  harshness  of  the  often 
cruel  vigor  that  is  directed  against  weak  and  strong 
alike,  sparing  neither  age  nor  infirmity,  nor  anything 
deserving  of  pity.  The  Great  King  roared  with 
laughter  when  Lully,  clad  in  mufti,  jumped  out  over 
the  end  of  the  stage,  and  smashed  a  clavecin  to  bits 
with  his  feet  and  fists.  Saint-Simon  tells  of  the 
monstrous  and  inhuman  tricks  played  by  the  at- 
tendants of  the  Duchess  of  Burgundy  at  Versailles, 
incidents  revealing  the  savagery  of  the  Court. 
Moliere's  actors  were  true  interpreters  of  the  spirit 
of  the  time.     Today  the  people  no  longer  enjoy 

It 


12  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

these  things.  But  we  must  be  careful  to  distin- 
guish the  peoples  of  various  nations,  if  I  may  believe 
what  was  told  me  of  a  popular  production  of 
Georges  Dandin  in  Russia.  The  play  aroused  the 
ire  of  the  peasants,  who  sympathized  with  Dandin 
and  were  indignant  at  the  tricks  played  upon  him  by 
his  wife.  We  are  not  quite  so  bad  as  that;  for  Le 
Manage  force  is  one  of  the  greatest  successes  at 
our  People's  Universities.  At  Gerardmer  I  saw  a 
performance  of  Le  Medecin  malgre  lui  under  the 
direction  of  Maurice  Pottecher;  and  though  the 
actors  were  only  the  young  inexperienced  boys  and 
girls  of  the  village,  the  play  seemed  more  appro- 
priate than  as  if  it  were  on  the  boards  of  the 
Theatre-Frangais.  The  experiments  with  Le 
Bourgeois  gentilhomme  and  Le  Malade  imaginaire, 
under  the  auspices  of  the  Cooperation  des  idees  and 
in  the  outlying  theaters,  were  no  less  successful. 
These  works  seem  to  be  of  the  people,  by  reason 
of  their  broadness,  their  robust  light-heartedness, 
_  and  their  Rabelaisian  spirit.  But  let  us  not  hasten 
to  conclude  that  this  is  all  that  is  required.  I  once 
saw  a  production  of  Le  Malade  imaginaire,  offered 
by  the  Trente  ans  de  Theatre;  it  was  successful — 
though  the  sentimental  declamations  of  Musset  the 
same  evening  were  received  with  more  applause. 
Never  before  had  I  realized  the  monstrousness  of 
the  play,  not  only  because  certain  actors  saw  fit  to 
exaggerate  their  already  exaggerated  sense  of  com- 
edy, but  because  when  the  play  was  exposed  to  the 


MOLIERE  13 

light,  I  could  see  at  once  that  part  of  the  classic 
convention  which  is  hidden  beneath  the  buffoonery 
of  genius.  At  the  Comedie-Frangaise  we  are  used 
to  this,  and  do  not  notice  it;  but  the  people  are  not, 
and  they  are  surprised.  More  than  once  have  I  ob- 
served that  my  neighbors,  as  at  the  People's  Uni- 
versities, were  ill  at  ease  at  these  plays,  and  saw  the 
suspicion  creep  upon  them  that  their  bourgeois 
amusers  were  treating  them  like  children  in  their 
endeavor  to  reach  the  level  of  that  particular  public. 
And  this  feeling  spoiled  all  the  pleasure — a  real 
pleasure,  of  course,  for  who  can  resist  the  laughter 
of  Moliere? 

If  the  people  were  to  get  nothing  from  Moliere 
but  the  low  comedy,  he  would  not  be  worth  while: 
they  might  perhaps  profit  by  the  language,  but  would 
remain  untouched  and  unenlightened.  I  fear  such 
is  the  case  nowadays:  the  classical  masterpieces  of 
Moliere  leave  them  unmoved;  I  have  seen  them  sit, 
politely  bored,  through  a  performance  of  Le  Misan- 
thrope— an  admirable  piece  of  salon  psychology 
— or  Lcs  Fcnimes  savantes,  wherein  comedy  bor- 
rows some  of  the  dignity  and  nobility  of  tragedy. 
I  am  aware  that  the  production  of  Tar  tuff  e  at  Ba- 
ta-clan  in  November,  1902,  was  a  tremendous  suc- 
cess; it  was  not,  however,  due  to  Moliere,  but  to 
M.  Combes,  or  his  mouthpiece — the  anti-clerical 
journalist  who  took  it  into  his  head  to  draw  a 
parallel  between  the  mishaps  of  Orgon,  and  the 
Congregations  affair,  and  "  in  the  person  of  Tar- 


U  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

tuffe  denounced  the  eternal  enemy,  declaring  that 
the  struggle  ought  to  continue,  and  that  it  was  more 
necessary  at  present  than  ever  before."  As  one 
critic  naively  expressed  it :  "  The  man  in  black  is  an 
object  of  horror  to  the  French  public.  We  never 
tire  of  denouncing  and  hating  him."  ^  Such  con- 
siderations are,  of  course,  foreign  to  art,  and  I  have 
cause  for  believing  that  if  Tarhiffc  had  been  left 
to  stand  or  fall  on  its  own  merits,  it  would  have 
proved  much  less  successful.  In  spite  of  its  savor 
and  its  vigorous  power,  the  form  of  the  play  is  not 
sufficiently  free;  it  smacks  of  its  century;  long- 
speeches  abound,  and  a  vast  amount  of  topical  re- ' 
ligious  discussion,  which  is  quite  lost  on  the  people. 
They  despise  religious  hypocrisy,  of  course,  but  I  • 
doubt  whether  they  understand  it,  especially  under 
the  disguise  it  assumed  in  the  days  of  Les  Provin- 
ciales. 

But  let  us  not  quibble  over  the  worth  of  Moliere : 
he  has  contributed  generously.  From  one  or  the 
other  aspects  of  his  comic  genius  he  has  succeeded 
in  pleasing  all  classes  for  two  centuries,  and  he  often 
resembles  them  by  reason  of  his  fraternal  joyous- ' 
ness.  This  is  a  rare  phenomenon,  practically  unique 
on  our  stage.  Moliere's  style  is  not  rare  in  France, 
but  no  matter  how  great  the  talent  of  the  successors 
of  that  great  man,  not  one  of  them  possessed  his 
opulent  mixture  of  opposed  temperaments;  he  had 
two  natures,  as  it  were,  one  that  analyzed  life  with 
ironic  finesse,  another  that  reveled  gaily  in  it.     Ob- 

*  In  Le  Temps,  Nov.  24,  1902. 


MOLIERE  15 

servation  on  the  one  hand,  and  vigor  on  the  other. 
After  him,  and  according  to  which  of  the  two  sides 
of  MoHere  they  reHshed,  the  pubHc  was  divided,  and 
art  degenerated.  Later  I  shall  take  occasion  to  say 
what  I  think  of  our  modern  comedy. 


CHAPTER  II 
CLASSIC  TRAGEDY 

The  comedy  of  Moliere  can,  if  need  be,  satisfy 
the  first  needs  of  a  People's  Theater,  but  not  for 
long.  Speaking  generally,  he  does  not  offer  enough 
comedy.  Laughter  is  a  force,  and  intelligent  satire 
of  the  vices  satisfies  the  reason.  But  we  cannot  find 
in  Moliere  the  necessary  springs  to  action.  Classic 
comedy,  especially,  is  cast  into  an  extremely  rigid 
form;  its  domain  is  that  of  common-sense,  which 
reigns  supreme.  Beyond  this  it  does  not  extend. 
Now,  there  is  nothing  so  precious  as  common-sense; 
at  a  time  when  there  seems  to  be  so  little,  it  would 
be  unwise  to  assert  the  contrary;  common-sense  may 
lead  us  anywhere,  even  to  heroism — we  have  proofs 
of  that.  But  the  people  are  like  a  woman :  they  are 
not  actuated  by  reason  alone,  but  rather  by  instinct 
and  passion,  and  these  must  be  nourished  and  di- 
rected. The  emotions  aroused  by  great  tragic  art 
are  capable  of  producing  deep  and  lasting  effect. 
Have  we  in  France  a  tragic  repertory  which  can 
serve  this  purpose?  Have  we  tragic  plays  which 
exalt  the  heroic  powers  of  the  soul,  the  vigor  of  the 
passions  and  the  will? 

The  first  that  come  to  our  attention  are  the  classic 
tragedies  of  the  seventeenth  century. 

i6 


CLASSIC  TRAGEDY  17 

A  great  to-do  has  been  made  over  the  success  of 
certain  productions;  for  example,  Andromaque  at 
Ba^ta-clan.  This  is  what  led  M.  Bernheim  and  his 
friends  to  declare  that  classic  tragedy  was  a  popular 
form.     Let  us  inquire  a  little  more  closely. 

"  The  experiment  tried  out  at  Ba-ta-clan,"  writes 
M.  Larroumet,  a  champion  of  M.  Bernheim,  "  was 
a  brilliant  success.  Andromaque  aroused  unheard- 
of  enthusiasm.  The  three  thousand  spectators  lost 
not  a  single  detail  of  the  action,  not  a  word  of  the 
dialogue.  They  caught  and  appreciated  the  ele- 
gance of  Racine,  his  choice  of  words,  his  use  of 
general  terms,  his  delicate  shades — everything."  ^ 

For  my  part  I  cannot  imagine  an  "  audience  of 
three  thousand "  proletarians  appreciating  the 
"  choice  of  words  "  and  the  "  delicate  shades  "  of 
Racine,  like  so  many  professors  of  rhetoric.  He 
who  wishes  to  prove  too  much,  proves  nothing. 
Again  let  us  look  into  the  matter  and  see  under 
what  conditions  the  play  was  produced.  This  time 
the  play  was  not  presented  to  the  public  by  an  anti- 
clerical journalist,  but  a  counsel  of  the  assizes. 
Why  a  counsel  ?     The  critic  of  Le  Temps  tells  us : 

"  Maitre  Felix  Decori,  the  celebrated  counsel, 
ought  by  reason  of  his  position  to  be  able  to  obtain 
a  clear  view  of  the  art  of  Racine.  There  is  not  a 
theme  in  Racine's  plays  which  does  not  appear  on 
some  page  of  the  Gazette  des  Tribimaii.i:  And  the 
theme  of  Andromaque  in  particular  is  no  other  than 
a  crime  of  passion.     The  adventure  of  Orestes  and 

'  In  Le  Temps,  Oct.  27,  1902. 


i8  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

of  Pyrrhus,  of  Hermione  and  Andromache,  is  simply 
this :  a  woman  takes  revenge  on  a  man  who  refuses 
to  love  her,  but  is  in  love  with  another  woman. 
She  incites  the  man  who  loves  her  to  kill  the  first. 
She,  however,  does  not  love  the  murderer,  though 
she  has  promised  to  marry  him.  Maitre  Decori  has 
only  to  recall  some  similar  incident  from  his  past 
experience,  in  which  he  will  find  a  butcher  and  his 
wife,  their  assistant  and  a  shop-girl.  In  fact,  this 
is  what  Maitre  Decori  actually  did ;  and  he  concluded 
with  these  words : '  I  have  just  told  you  the  story  of 
Andromaque.' " 

Now  I  understand  the  success  of  Andromaque. 
But  here  you  have  merely  given  the  people  a  story 
from  the  Petit  Journal!  Do  you  really  think  that 
is  the  subject  of  Andromaque F  Is  that  the  "  deli- 
cate shades,"  the  "elegance  of  Racine"?  How 
could  you  have  possibly  failed  to  observe  that  in  the 
art  of  Racine „the  subject  is  next  to  nothing,  that 
^  the^  analysis  of  human  souls,  and  the  style,  is  every- 
thin^?  Do  you  not  see  that  when  you  emphasize 
the  melodramatic  element,  you  are  not  increasing 
appreciation  of  Racine;  you  are  merely  making  him 
ridiculous  ? 

M.  Faguet  felt  this,  and  in  one  of  his  most  open- 
minded  articles  set  forth  with  striking  irony  what 
the  people  saw  in  Racine's  masterpieces.  M.  Faguet 
is  certainly  no  friend  of  the  popular  theater  move- 
ment and  he  has  often  shown  his  disapproval  to 
readers  of  the  Journal  des  Debats — who  asked  noth- 
ing better  than  to  be  convinced.     He  said  that  "  the 


1 


CLASSIC  TRAGEDY  i^ 

people's  theater  cannot  exist,  because  up  to  the  pres- 
ent it  never  has  existed,"  ^  thus  admitting  in  ad- 
vance there  is  no  progress,  and  that  nothing  ever 
changes.  Which  is  at  least  convenient.  But  M. 
Faguet  is  much  too  clever  for  me  to  attempt  to 
disprove  an  assertion  the  truth  of  which  he  is  better 
able  to  see  than  anyone  else;  the  only  revenge  I  wish 
to  take  is  to  borrow  a  little  of  his  irony — especially 
when  it  suits  my  purpose. 

"  So  you  have  taken  it  into  your  heads  to  consider 
Andromaque  a  melodrama?  "  he  asks.  "  If  so,  you 
have  seen  that  it  can  very  well  be  so  considered. 
We  find  an  innocent  woman  being  persecuted,  and 
a  ferocious  tyrant.  Here  are  the  ingredients  of 
melodrama,  all  the  ingredients.  And  after  many 
peripeties,  in  which  the  sympathetic  character  never 
once  flinches,  she  is  just  about  to  commit  a  crime — 
but  does  not,  remaining  faithful  to  these  two  senti- 
ments :  maternal  love  and  conjugal  love.  The  fero- 
cious tyrant  is  killed,  the  traitress  stabs  herself,  the 
traitor  goes  mad,  and  the  sympathetic  character  be- 
comes Queen,  and  lives  secure  with  her  little  boy 
who  has  been  saved  from  drowning.  This  is  pure 
melodrama,  the  king  of  melodramas." 

Then  comes  a  denouement  a  la  Diderot,  intro- 
duced for  the  popular  productions :  the  coronation 
of  Andromache.  "  She  mounts  to  the  throne, 
Cephise  brings  her  her  son,  whom  Andromache 
takes  on  her  knees  and  embraces.     Curtain." 

**  But,"  continues  M.  Faguet,  "  see  how  many  of 

*  Journal  des  DebatSj  July  20,  1903. 


20  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

our  classic  tragedies  contain  the  necessary  elements 
of  melodrama,  with  the  sympathetic  character  in 
danger,  the  sympathetic  character  triumphing  in  the 
end,  virtue  rewarded  and  vice  punished.  I  have 
seen  Phedre  and  Athalie  produced  before  popular 
audiences,  and  received  respectfully  and  coldly.  In 
Phedre  the  audience  cared  only  for  the  innocent 
victim,  Hippolytus.  They  were  not  truly  aroused 
until  the  discussion  scene  between  Hippolytus  and 
Theseus,  in  the  fourth  act,  and  Theramene's  speech. 
Athalie  was  another  matter.  The  only  efifect  pro- 
duced was  of  wonder.  The  popular  audience  was 
astonished,  and  again  astonished,  straight  up  to  the 
end.  Quite  natural.  What  did  the  popular  public 
do  ?  What  would  you  have  them  do  ?  They  looked 
for  the  sympathetic  character,  and  found  it  not,  as 
Racine  has  neglected  or  scorned  to  introduce  one. 
They  said  to  themselves :  'I  see :  Joad  is  an  old 
rascal,  but  clever;  Athalie  is  an  old  harradan;  Abner 
is  a  fool  pure  and  simple.  But  with  whom  may  I 
sympathize?  When  is  he  coming  on?  I  am  wait- 
ing for  him  to  stir  me! '  And  the  popular  public 
waited  for  him  to  the  end  of  the  last  act;  they  cared 
not  a  jot  about  Athalie's  murder,  Joad's  triumph,  or 
Joas'  coronation.  And  neither  did  I,  because  I  had 
become  one  of  the  people,  and  I  gradually  con- 
cluded: 'This  play  is  admirable,, but  admirable  and 
interesting  are  two  different  things;  as  regards 
dramatic  interest,  the  people  are  right;  it  is  not  an 
interesting  play! ' " 

I  call  your  attention  to  these  last  lines,  so  lucid 


CLASSIC  TRAGEDY  21 

and  so  frank.  And  they  are  true  not  only  of 
Athalie,  but  of  the  great  majority  of  our  classic 
masterpieces.  The  fact  that  Racine  is  not  popular 
proves  nothing  against  the  people,  nor  against 
Racine.  They  belong  to  two  different  worlds,  and 
there  is  no  reason  for  bringing  them  together.  The 
great  art  of  Racine  is  serenely  impersonal;  at  the 
base  of  it,  seen  as  through  limpid  water,  appear 
human  souls  and  emotions — especially  weak  souls 
and  feminine  emotions.  The  author  does  not  take 
sides;  he  seems  scarcely  to  care  about  the  events 
which  are  to  ruin  his  heroes;  he  does  nothing  for 
them;  he  merely  allows  them  passive  submission 
in  the  face  of  a  superior  and  dominating  power.  He 
is  ti'ot  The  Master  whose  thought  the  crowd,  espe- 
cially the  French  crowd,  loves  to  feel  dominating 
them;  nor  does  his  gospel  particularly  move  them. 
The  plays  of  Racine  are  the  work  of  a  dilettante  of 
genius,  a  disciple  of  art  for  art's  sake,  who  is  in  no 
wise  interested  in  action,  and  who  in  consequence 
can  exert  no  influence — unless  it  be  upon  artists  like 
himself,  the  aristocracy,  which  are  always  limited. 

With  Corneille  it  is  different.  Here  we  are  in 
the  presence  of  a  power  addressing  itself  directly 
to  the  will,  a  man  speaking  to  men,  with  a  great 
sweep  of  action  which  continuously  binds  the  pub- 
lic to  what  transpires  on  the  stage.  Certain  deli- 
cate souls  may  perhaps  be  shocked  at  the  insistence 
shown  by  the  man  who  talks  straight  into  your 
face,  and  who  will  not  stop  until  he  has  seized,  held, 


22  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

and  wearied  you  with  his  endless  chatter.  But  the 
people  like  to  be  led.  Never  do  they  seem  ill  at 
ease  at  a  play  of  Corneille's;  never,  as  at  a  tragedy 
of  Racine's,  do  they  remain  strangers  to  what  is 
happening  on  the  stage,  and  merely  witness  the 
exterior  of  interior  dramas.  Corneille  throws  them 
at  once  into  the  midst  of  the  action.  He  realizes 
that  the  first  law  for  a  great  dramatist  is  to  speak 
for  everyone.  The  robust  Norman  belonged  tem- 
peramentally in  more  ways  than  one  to  the  people : 
his  love  of  talk,  his  sanguinary  violence,  his  sudden 
transports  of  anger,  his  brusque  reversals  of  feeling, 
his  instinctive  savagery  so  thinly  veiled  behind  the 
expression  of  general  ideas — Horatius,  for  instance, 
stabbing  his  sister  in  the  name  of  reason.^  His 
full-length  characters,  the  victims  of  sudden  occur- 
rences transforming  them  from  top  to  toe,  are  essen- 
tially proletarian.  The  complete  change  that  takes 
place  in  the  souls  oi  Cinna,  Emilia,  Augustus,  is^ 
almost  inexplicable  to  the  bourgeois  mind,  which  is 
slow  and  reflective;  but  quite  natural  to  passionate  j 

unsophisticated  souls.^  .1 

And  yet  not  one  play  of  Corneille  is  altogether- 

'  "  Cest  trop,  ma  patience  a  la  raison  fait  place.  {Horatius 
kills  Camilla.)  " 

*  Certain  passages  in  Corneille  show  a  succession  of  pas- 
sions as  rapid  and  unexpected  as  the  mimicry  of  a  semi- 
barbarous  Japanese  actor: 

"Ma  haine  va  mourir,  que  jai  crue  immortelle; 
Elle  est  morte,  et  ce  ccEur  devient  sujet  fidelle; 
En  prenant  desormais  cette  haine  en  horreur, 
L'ardeur  de  vous  servir  succede  a  sa  fureur." 

(Cinna.) 


CLASSIC  TRAGEDY  23 

adapted  to  the  needs  of  the  people.      For  several 
reasons : 

The  language.  It  is  a  fact  that  the  form  of  a 
tragedy  or  a  drame  "  dates  "  more  quickly  than  that 
of  a  comedy;  at  least,  it  sooner  ceases  to  be  under- 
stood by  the  public.  It  is  not  so  realistic,  and  de- 
pends less  upon  the  observation  of  human  nature;  it 
is  more  subjective,  more  personal;  it  bears  the  im- 
print of  the  epoch  and  the  nation  more  unmistak- 
ably. The  poet's  imagination  receives  its  nourish- 
ment from  the  atmosphere  of  the  century,  from  the 
^esthetic  conventions  with  which  he  has  been  sur- 
rounded. Nothing  goes  out  of  fashion  more  read- 
ily than  a  poetic  metaphor — when  the  poet  has  lived 
in  court  life  or  in  salons,  the  intellectual  baggage  of 
which  changes  completely  every  ten  or  twenty  years. 
And  so  his  images  often  become  unintelligible  except 
to  the  cultured  few,  who  find  a  charm  in  the  unusual 
and  surprising — be  they  of  the  strange  burning 
variety  of  Shakespeare,  or  delicate  and  out-of-date, 
as  with  our  classic  writers.  Besides,  Corneille's 
style  is  particularly  obscure.  Except  at  the  culmi- 
nating points  in  the  action,  it  is  abstract,  involved, 
incorrect,  and  occasionally  enigmatic;  even  in  his 
day  people  spoke  of  the  Cornelian  jargon.  This  is 
not  always,  however,  an  unsurmountable  obstacle 
to  popular  appreciation,  since  the  people  listen  only 
for  the  thundering  passages,  and  it  is  the  general 
impression  which  affects  them.  But  this  ought  to 
be  realized  as  a  matter  for  regret,  this  stupid  fas- 
cination of  mere  words,  disarming  reason;  it  has 


24  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

caused  innumerable  tragedies  in  history;  and  the 
function  of  the  People's  Theater,  far  from  encourag- 
ing sluggishness  of  mind,  is  to  combat  it  unceas- 
ingly, in  presenting  to  the  people  only  what  they  are 
able  to  understand. 

And  besides,  Corneille's  whole  dramatic  system  is 
antagonistic   to  the   popular   audience.     He   offers 
them  a  minimum  of  pleasure.     There  are  few  char- 
acters, few  events,  and  no  scenic  trappings :  a  plot 
developed  through  abstract  speeches.    His  plays  are 
based  upon  the  old  Humanities,  Latin  discourses, 
legal  discussions,  and  bourgeois  rhetoric.     There  is 
nothing  to  attract  the  living  people  who  suffer  be- 
cause of  their  cramped  position.     There  is  nothing 
for  their  avid  and  childlike  imagination.     One  feels 
that  Corneille's  art  is  the  expression  of  a  society 
"  of  dry  imagination  and  rigid  reason,"  ^  which  is 
absolutely  opposed  to  the  people.     This  is  strikingly 
demonstrated  in  the  ideas,  the  subjects,  even  the 
characters,  many  of  whom  seem  foreign  and  utterly 
strange.     I  do  not  necessarily  mean  the  mad  fury 
of  certain  characters,  the  sharp  edge  of  which  is 
mow  dulled;  or  the  stone-age  passions — the  "point 
|of  honor,"  for  instance  (more  striking  still  in  the 
'Spanish    plays,    leading    the    heroes    of    Calderon 
I  to  the  commission  of  absurdly  atrocious  crimes). 
Nor  do  I  refer  to  those  dead  parts  of  the  soul  re- 
vealed by  the  poet,  the  insufferable  gallantry  and 
cold  politeness  of  love-making  now  so  hopelessly 
outmoded.     The  very  essence  of  Corneille's  art  is 

*  Gustave  Lanson. 


CLASSIC  TRAGEDY  25 

practically  dead  for  us  of  today.  It  was  a  political 
art,  intended  for  statesmen,  patriots,  and  those  in- 
terested in  the  theory  of  government  and  revolu- 
tion. As  has  been  said,  it  reflects  the  generation 
of  great  ambitious  men,  laid  low,  not  without  diffi- 
culty by  Mazarin  and  Richelieu,  whose  dominant 
passion  was  government,  and  who  in  thought  and 
sometimes  in  action,  after  trying  all  forms  of  poli- 
tics and  contemplating  all  things,  contributed  to  the 
elaboration  of  the  powerful  machine  of  the  State 
in  the  seventeenth  century.  It  was  for  them  that 
the  discussions  in  Cinna,  Sertorins,  and  Othon  were 
written.  No  matter  how  clear-sighted  and  pene- 
trating these  discourses  were,  what  possible  interest 
do  they  offer  us  of  today?  Undoubtedly,  our  own 
age,  like  Corneille's,  is  a  political  one,  and  we  have 
resolutely  set  ourselves  to  solve  our  problems  of 
government  and  society,  to  find  a  new  formula 
which  shall  satisfy  our  moral  and  intellectual  needs. 
But  our  present-day  problems  are  not  the  problems 
of  two  centuries  ago,  and  as  for  politics,  we  are 
interested  in  nothing  that  does  not  immediately 
concern  us.  The  reasoning  of  Cinna  and  Maximus 
is  as  valid  as  it  ever  was,  but  (as  is  almost  always 
the  case  with  Corneille)  it  is  an  aristocratic  sort 
of  reasoning,  a  thing  apart  from  practical  affairs, 
and  consequently  disdained  by  the  people.  And  they 
are  right.  These  discussions  and  reasonings  lead 
almost  invariably  to  the  apotheosis  of  monarchy, 
and  a  victorious  peace  after  long  wars.  We  can 
easily   understand   why   Napoleon   used    Cinna  to 


26  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

further  his  ends,  when  he  had  Talma  play  it  at 
Erfurt  before  the  vanquished  kings.  Nowadays 
such  plays  ring  false.  As  for  forcing  the  people 
to  accept  them  as  art,  and  not  taking  into  account 
the  ideas  set  forth  in  them — well,  it  is  a  very  dan- 
gerous sort  of  dilettantism. 

But  there  are  some  few  of  Corneille's  plays  that 
may  perhaps  be  acceptable  to  the  people.  There  is 
Horace,  in  which  the  sturdy  heroism  of  the  prin- 
cipal character  is  well  calculated — maybe  too  well — 
to  stir  the  people.  Even  the  trial  at  the  end  is  not 
without  a  certain  grandeur,  which  appeals  rather  to 
the  people  than  to  the  ordinary  public.  Unfortu- 
nately, the  language  is  too  often  obscure  and  the 
action  slow  and  uninteresting.  The  ardent  spirit 
of  youth  in  Le  Cid,  its  freedom  of  form,  its  abound- 
ing vitality,  arouse  irresistible  enthusiasm.  And 
yet  I  am  not  sure  whether  the  particular  problem 
of  chivalry  which  the  dueling  gentlemen  of  the 
court  of  Louis  XIII  are  called  upon  to  solve  has  not 
become  a  trifle  archaic  for  the  workingmen  of  the 
Faubourg-Saint-Antoine.  Possibly  Nicomede  is 
the  play  best  suited  to  the  people,  for  the  hero  be- 
longs to  a  class  dear  to  their  hearts:  a  good  and 
joyous  giant,  a  Gallic  Siegfried,  alone  among  his 
enemies,  frustrating  their  plots,  poking  fun  at  their 
weaknesses,  and  all  with  an  air  of  ironic  bravura — 
and  finally  triumphant.  The  figures  about  him  are 
altogether  picturesque:  the  beautiful  savage  Lao- 
dice,  the  old  king,  a  liar  and  a  coward,  the  French 
knight  Attale  and  the  Anglo-Saxon  diplomat  Fla- 


CLASSIC  TRAGEDY  27 

minius.  The  play  is  ingeniously  constructed  and  the 
action  more  interesting  than  most  tragedies — at 
least,  the  interest  is  sustained  by  more  surprises,  and 
rises  steadily  up  to  the  end.  Why  is  the  style  more 
obscure  than  ever  and  more  replete  with  jargon? 
Like  Horace,  Niconiede  could  not  be  produced  with- 
out cuts  and  many  explanations.  Finally — and  we 
need  proceed  no  further  in  our  inquiry — we  may  say 
that  unless  we  alter  them  beyond  recogniti^in,  we 
have  no  use  for  our  seventeenth  century  tragedies 
on  the  stage,  and  must  relegate  them  to  the  library/ 

^  Maurice  Pottecher,  who  is  in  a  position  to  observe  the 
popular  public,  is  of  the  same  opinion :  "I  do  not  think  it 
possible  to  use  our  classical  tragedies ;  they  belong  to  an 
aristocratic  form  of  art  which  seems  out  of  place  in  a  people's 
theater.  Popular  actors  are  not  intended  to  speak  the  lan- 
guage of  Corneille  and  Racine."  {Le  Theatre  du  Peuple,  in 
the  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes,  July  1,  1903.) 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  ROMANTIC  DRAMA 

The  case  is  far  different  with  the  Romantic 
Drama.  Our  problem  is  not  so  much  to  render  it 
accessible  to  the  people,  as  to  keep  it  from  them  if, 
as  it  seemed,  they  showed  signs  of  liking  it  too  well. 
I  need  not  repeat  that  the  Romantic  Drama  is  a  kind 
of  melodrama;  and  all  the  purely  verbal  poetry  with 
which  it  is  garnished  can  only  increase  its  perni- 
ciousness.'^  It  is  merely  a  lion's  skin  thrown  over  a 
bit  of  trifling  nonsense.  With  all  its  superb  inten- 
tions to  supply  the  key  to  the  universal  enigma, 
depict  and  expound  the  whole  world,  "  to  observe 
everything  at  one  time  and  in  its  every  aspect " — 
as  the  poet  naively  proclaims  in  the  preface  to  Marie 
Tudor — this  form  of  drama  requires  very  little 
ability  in  the  writing.  So  far  as  observation  is  con- 
cerned, it  relies  on  abstractions,  as  in  the  tragedies 
of  Voltaire,  wherein  the  author  seeks  to  overwhelm 
one  with  a  wealth  of  detail  as  meticulous  as  it  is 
questionable.  So  far  as  thought  is  concerned,  it  is 
a  motley  harlequin  of  contradictory  whims,  in  which 

^  It  goes  without  saying  that  I  do  not  here  refer  to  the 
admirable  aristocratic  reveries  of  Musset,  nor  to  the  few  cold 
and  anti-popular  plays  of  Aldred  de  Vigny — which,  by  the 
way,  are  vastly  inferior  to  their  reputation. 

a8 


THE  ROMANTIC  DRAMA  29 

the  dominant  note  is  an  ordinary  Naturalism — 
derived  from  the  Encyclopedists — over  which  the 
Revolutionary  stress  and  exasperated  violence  of 
German  Romanticism  have  spread  a  thin  veneer.       f\ 

^Reeking  with  violence,  bombast,  bravura,  strik- 
ing metaphor,  false  science,  and  false  thought,  this 
type  of  drama  is  the  swaggering  bully  of  French  art. 

"The  dramatists  do  not  take  the  trouble  to  think, 
learn,  or  observe;  their  plays  possess  neither  truth 
nor  sincerity :  they  are  masterly  "  bluffs."  They  are 
simply  melodrama,  exploiting  the  public,  who  swal- 
low them  out  of  sheer  ignorance,  deceived  by  the 
brilliancy  of  the  style  and  the  rank  sentiment;  for 
the  people  are  easily  moved  without  asking  the 
reason  why,  and  what  is  evil  in  them  seeks  out  from 
under  the  pseudo-humanitarian  and  pseudo-religious 
varnish  the  bait  of  a  gross  materialism,  and  bites  at 
it.  The  false  brigands  and  false  revolutionaries  of 
this  form  are  the  first-born  and  most  comely  off- 
spring of  that  Montmartre  art  which  has  since  then 
so  deeply  influenced  French  thought.  It  is  an  art 
of  literary  coteries,  abounding  in  talent,  but  scarcely 
ever  reaching  maturity,  because  it  lacks  restraint, 
sincerity,  and  self-criticism.  All  this  Romantic  up- 
heaval smacks  more  of  Bohemia  than  of  the  Revolu- 
tion. In  deafening  the  people  with  anarchistic  dec- 
lamations, these  plays  contribute  more  effectively 
toward  keeping  them  in  their  present  state  of  inertia 
than  even  the  licensed  purveyors  of  the  Bourgeoisie. 
The  poetic  barrenness  of  the  elder  Dumas  proves  the 
essential  emptiness  of  the  melodrama  type,  stripped 


30  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

of  lyricism,  and  standing  naked  before  the  world. 
I  firmly  believe  that  the  Romantic  Drama  is  a  hin- 
drance to  the  People's  Theater  we  are  seeking  to 
establish  in  France.  It  has  sent  forth  innumerable 
offshoots,  which  may  be  divided  into  two  main 
branches :  the  dramas  in  Hugo's  style,  and  those  in 
the  elder  Dumas'.  These  latter,  crude  melodramas 
pure  and  simple,  with  their  beggars  in  silks  and 
satins,  and  braggart  adventurers,  have  descended 
upon  our  outlying  theaters  like  a  swarm  of  locusts 
and  stripped  everything  bare  in  their  wake.  The 
former,  less  bumptious  as  it  were,  aiming  at  some- 
thing higher,  have  assumed  a  place  in  the  so-called 
poetic  drama  repertory,  where  they  have  done  their 
best  to  corrupt  the  taste  of  the  Bourgeoisie — and 
succeeded.  But  it  was  an  easy  conquest.  The 
bourgeois  public  is  capable  of  judging  only  a  work 
of  average  realism,  with  a  basis  of  common-sense 
and  a  moderate  dose  of  observation.  It  is  beyond 
its  depth  in  poetry,  and  cannot  distinguish  the  false 
from  the  true.  Caricature  will  probably  be  more 
acceptable  to  them,  because  it  is  more  obvious. 
Through  snobbishness  they  were  forced  to  pretend 
to  understand  a  language  that  was  strange  to  them, 
and  they  went  straight  to  the  charlatans,  and  were 
deceived.  The  critics,  who  ought  to  have  shielded 
them,  abdicated  to  a  man,  for  fear  of  making  a 
stand  against  the  current  fashion,  from  indifference, 
from  dilettantism,  or  from  a  lack  of  faith  in  ordi- 
nary common-sense;  and  absurdity  ran  riot  on  the 
stage,  where  it  did  not  lack  its  illustrious  inter- 


THE  ROMANTIC  DRAMA  31 

preters.  It  may  safely  be  asserted  that  at  least  one 
of  these  interpreters  played  a  decisive  part  not  only 
in  the  success  but  in  the  evolution  of  the  form: 
the  name  of  Sarah  Bernhardt  will  best  characterize 
this  Byzantinized — or  Americanized — Neo-Roman- 
ticism,  rigid,  fixed,  and  without  youth;  lacking 
vigor,  and  surcharged  with  both  genuine  and  arti- 
ficial ornament — and  withal  sad  under  all  its  gor- 
geousness,  and  tawdry  in  its  color. 

Of  late,  M.  Rostand  has  deliberately  revived  the 
Romanticism  of  Hugo  and  the  elder  Dumas,  and 
infused  a  semblance  of  new  life  into  it  with  his 
southern  brio,  seasoning  it  with  a  little  fashionable 
slang.  But  this  brilliant  and  acrobatic  poet,  this 
gamin  of  Romanticism,  is  no  more  than  a  comic 
dramatist  masquerading  in  the  cloak  of  the  trage- 
dian. The  author  of  Prince  Long-Nose,  escorted 
by  his  d'Artagnans,  the  clown  Flambeau,  called 
Flambard,  the  impossible  Metternich — a  Punch-and- 
Judy  policeman — with  all  his  amusing  speeches,  his 
nimble  wit,  his  puns  and  poetic  gasconades,  has  not 
yet  touched  true  tragic  sentiment  except  to  prove 
that  it  is  a  closed  book  to  him.  Instead,  he  has  elo- 
quently flattered  the  public  with  the  crude  jingoism 
of  L'Aiglon  and  the  demi-mondaine  piety  of  La 
Samaritainc.  He  has  succeeded ;  and  to  some  people 
success  is  the  sole  criterion.  I  am  sure  he  can  do 
better  work,  but  he  must  beware.  Success  and  for- 
tune have  estranged  him  from  life,  which  he  neither 
sees  nor  hears.  His  province  is  the  rhetoric  of  life. 
I  am  sorry  to  have  to  criticize  him,  for  he  is  a  dis- 


32  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

tinct  power,  and  every  power,  be  it  of  words,  of 
metaphor,  or  of  gaiety,  is  worthy  of  sympathy — 
and  I  am  in  sympathy  with  M.  Rostand.  But  if  he 
fails  to  put  himself  at  the  service  of  truth,  we  shall 
be  constrained  to  combat  him  as  a  public  menace. 
(It  is  not  given  to  everyone  to  be  a  public  menace!) 
How  many  poets  there  are  who  think  they  have 
served  their  country  because  they  sang  of  heroism, 
devotion,  and  sacrifice!  But  if  their  faith  has  been 
only  of  the  lips  and  not  of  the  heart,  if  they  have 
cared  only  for  verbal  felicity  and  not  for  serious 
and  stubborn  realities,  if  they  have  sought  personal 
success  and  not  the  welfare  of  others,  then  they  have 
rendered  heroism,  devotion,  and  sacrifice  objects 
of  contempt,  and  in  no  wise  served  their  cause.  The 
virtuosos  of  sentiment,  who  listen  only  to  their  own 
songs  and  sing  for  public  applause,  are  vicious,  be- 
cause they  habituate  others  to  self-deception. 

It  is  now  a  fashion — first  introduced,  I  think,  by 
M.  Jules  Lemaitre — to  urge  that  snobbishness  should 
be  encouraged  by  the  public,  as  the  ally  of  new  ideas, 
bringing,  as  it  does,  money  and  public  favor.  Pos- 
sibly this  shameful  practice  is  not  unwarranted 
under  actual  conditions,  but  we  shall  have  nothing 
to  do  with  it  in  our  People's  Theater.  A  nation 
might  conceivably  do  without  beauty;  but  it  ought 
not,  it  cannot  dispense  with  truth.  We  do  not  ask 
them  to  respect  and  admire  what  they  do  not  under- 
stand: that  is  all  very  well  if  you  wish  to  form  a 
nation  of  petty  officials  under  a  despotic  leadership. 
We  ask  them  not  to  accept  anything  they  cannot 


THE  ROMANTIC  DRAMA  33 

understand,  nor  admire  what  they  cannot  feel. 
What  odds  if  this  is  at  first  unfair  to  certain  works 
of  art  ?  The  people  actually  come  nearer  to  a  true 
appreciation  of  them  in  not  accepting  than  do  the 
snobs  in  applauding  them;  and,  besides,  they  pre- 
serve intact  their  source  of  truth,  whence  springs 
all  greatness  of  soul.  I  At  any  rate,  I  should  feel  no 
anxiety  for  such  a  people.  Well  endowed,  like  our 
own,  and  sincere — if  they  are  but  relieved  of  the 
excessive  burden  of  labor  under  which  they  now 
struggle,  and  given  a  chance  to  think — there  is  noth- 
ing to  which  they  cannot  attain.  But  false  feeling 
and  false  thinking  engendered  by  most  of  our  pres- 
ent-day poetry  would  otherwise  contaminate  them 
with  an  ineradicable  taint. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  BOURGEOIS  DRAMA 

Our  century  has  witnessed  the  development  of 
still  another  type  of  play,  one  that  has  been  im- 
mensely successful :  the  Bourgeois  Drama.  An  out- 
growth of  the  Tearful  Comedy  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  it  kept  pace  with  a  profound  social 
evolution:  the  rise  of  a  certain  class  to  a  position 
of  great  power.  It  owes  what  I  must  confess — 
putting  aside  my  personal  feelings — to  be  its  legiti- 
mate success  to  the  fact  that  it  interpreted  the  spirit,  < 
the  problems,  and  preoccupations  of  the  class  in* 
question.  There  is  nothing  more  just  than  that  art 
should  interpret  the  life  of  the  time.  Unfortu- 
nately, the  Bourgeoisie  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
different  from  that  of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth, 
takes  less  interest  in  practical  than  in  abstract  ques- 
tions, especially  in  the  matter  of  art.  We  are  made 
uncomfortable  in  witnessing  this  in  the  theatrical 
productions  which  reflect  it.  Augier  and  Dumas 
ills,  the  spokesmen  of  the  Bourgeoisie  of  the  nine- 
teenth century,  did  not  depict  characters — as  Mo- 
liere  did;  or  conditions — as  Diderot  tried  to  do;  or 
to  write  personal  and  intimate  tragedies  and  domes- 
tic dramas — or  when  they  tried,  they  were  not  suc- 
cessful.    They  are  interested  primarily  in  certain 

34 


THE  BOURGEOIS  DRAMA 


35 


/^  domestic  and  social  problems,  which  are  merely^- 
V  stated,  and  not  solved.  It  i§  only  natural  that  such 
works  should  have  impressed  the  audiences  of  the  ■/ 
day,  and  no  less  natural  that  they  should  pass  away 
with  their  time^  if  they  are  good  as  thesis-plays  and 
_  not.as, transcriptions  ojjife :  for* a  social  reform  can 
^•ender  th^  thesis  'devoid  of  interest.  >.  This  sort  of 
play  may  be  useful  to  society,  perhaps  even  to  the 
public,  because-  it  forces  them  to  think,  but  it  is 
a  form  which  constantly  requires  new  material, 
suited  to  ever-changing  conditions.  Since  it  is  the 
mirror j3f_j._  society  subject  to  unending  evolution, 
since  it  is  the  auxiliary  and  counsellor  of  lawyers 
"^  and  law-makers,  since  it  treats  the  sores  caused  by 
the  vices  flourishing  under  the  present  organization, 
and  since  cleansing  brings  relief,  /practically  all  the 

^subjects  about  which  th£sisj:p.lays  can  be  written  go 

._out  of  date  every  twenty  or  thirty  years.  Very_few 
of  them  are  based  uport'elernal  trutR^  and  if  one  or 
two  such  there  be,  I  have  perceived  no  touch,  of 
the  genius  in  them  that  makes  for  immortality.  iThe 
thesis-play  is  essentially  a  work  of  transition;  what 
constitutes  its  power  today  is  its  weakness  tomor- 
row; ^nd  if  our  People's  Theater  were  to  throw 
openots  doors  to  it,  we  should  require  an  entirely 
<  new  repertory;  for  what  do  the  people  care  about 
bourgeois  problems,  limited  as  they  are  to  the  Bour- 
geoisie? If  we  would  perpetuate  the  type,  we  must 
keep  it  abreast  of  the  times  by  adapting  it  to  the 
most  recent  developments. 

If  the  poetic  drama  is  wanting  in  common-sense 


*^^jU. 


36  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

and  truth,  the  bourgeois  drama  is  wanting  in  poetry. 
It  is  too  limited,  too  prosaic ;  it  offers  to  a  nation  in 
a  difficult  and  dangerous  situation,  requiring  the 
very  greatest  development  of  her  powers,  no  better 
nourishment  than  comedy.  Of  late  years,  a  few 
splendid  attempts  have  been  made  in  France — not 
to  mention  other  countries — to  open  the  doors  of 
the  bourgeois  theater  to  poetry  and  to  the  people, 
but  although  we  can  observe  in  them  a  more  sym- 
pathetic treatment  of  the  soul  and  the  problems  of 
the  people,  they  are  stigmatized  for  the  most  part  by 
the  touch  of  what  is  most  unpopular  and  aristo- 
cratic. Le  Repas  du  Lion  of  M.  Frangois  de  Cure! 
is  the  most  striking  example. 

I  have  little  to  say  of  our  modern  comedies.  They 
show  considerable  talent,  but  on  the  whole  they  are 
thin  and  insipid,  sentimental  and  corrupt.  .They  re- 
flect their  public,  a  lazy  and  degenerate  Bourgeoisie, 

■^withouF energy  to  love,  hate,  judge,  or  really  desire 
anything.     They  drift_uncertainly  between   flirta- 

_  tions  and  pornography,  and  occasionally  include 
both  in  a  disgusting  and  puerile  combination.  These 
plays  have  never  truly  represented  the  nation :  they 
insult  her.  I  remember  the  disdain  and  indigna- 
tion I  felt  when  I  first  came  to  Paris  and  discovered 
the  art  of  the  boulevards.  I  am  no  longer  indig- 
nant, but  my  disdain  has  remained.  These  plays 
dishonor  us  because  of  their  very  fame.  The 
theaters  where  they  are  produced  are  the  vile  pleas- 
ure-houses of  Europe.  Let  them  continue  to  pol- 
lute their  cosmopolitan  audiences,  if  they  so  wish — 


THE  BOURGEOIS  DRAMA  37 

the  snobs  can  defend  themselves,  and  if  they  want 
the  mud,  let  them  grovel,  there  is  no  harm  done.  I 
am  tempted  to  say  to  the  actors  what  Timon  said 
to  Phryne  and  Timandra:  "Continue  to  be  what 
you  are  .  .  .  and  ruin  those  who  wish  to  be  ruined." 
But  you  must  not  contaminate  the  people.  Do  not 
attempt  to  pollute  their  sources  of  truth  and  life. 

But  I  feel  that  in  a  theater  which  is  open  to  all, 
where  men,  women,  and  children  shall  gather  as  one 
family,  the  public  will  be  their  own  censor  and 
command  respect  where  respect  is  due.  The  in- 
stinct of  self-preservation  is  too  powerful  for  it  to 
be  otherwise:  a  healthy  people  will  not  allow  itself 
to  degenerate  out  of  sheer  light-heartedness,  as  if 
they  were  no  longer  of  any  use  in  the  world. 


274 1  '77 


CHAPTER  V 

FOREIGN  PLAYS 

Greek  Drama 

Shakespeare,  Schiller,  Wagner 

There  remain  the  plays  of  the  other  nations. 
Great  dramatists,  the  greatest  in  the  history  of  the 
theater — Sophocles,  Shakespeare,  Lope,  Calderon, 
and  Schiller — have  all  been  dramatists  of  the  people 
in  their  day — at  least  in  some  of  their  plays.  But 
differences  of  time  and  of  race  are  most  unfortu- 
nate. In  spite  of  the  compelling  charm  and  melan- 
choly majesty  a  play  of  Sophocles  with  its  serene 
perfection  of  Greek  art  will  always  possess  for  a 
cultured  few,  and  in  spite  of  the  intolerance  of  the 
admirers  of  what  I  may  call  the  recent  success  of 
CEdipus  the  King,  that  success  is  for  the  most  part 
due  to  erudition,  superstitious  respect  and,  above  all, 
the  prestige  of  an  actor  of  genius.  Without  the 
name  of  Sophocles,  and  the  poignant  though  almost 
wholly  plastic  emotion  of  Mounet-Sully's  acting  and 
the  considerable  impression  produced  by  the  me- 
diocre music,  neither  the  people  nor  the  Bourgeoisie 
could  have  distinguished  the  sublime  greatness  of 
CEdipus  the  King  from  a  host  of  melodramas  of  a 
bygone  day. 

38 


FOREIGN  PLAYS  39 

And  in  spite  of  the  great  distance  separating  us 
from  the  moral  and  rehgious  beliefs  of  the  Greeks, 
we  are  nearer  to  the  spirit  of  Sophocles  than — I 
shall  not  say  Lope  and  Calderon,  whose  bloody 
dramas,  rapacious  heroes  and  gentlemen-assassins 
will  never  be  acceptable  to  us  until  the  re-establish- 
ment of  bull-fighting  and  gladiatorial  combats  (a 
possibility,  indeed,  but  not  one  we  particularly  care 
to  envisage) — to  Shakespeare.  Indeed,  everything 
separates  him  from  us,  time  as  well  as  nationality. 
Nothing  more  surely  proves  our  narrowness  of 
mind,  its  inability  without  proper  preparation  to 
identify  ourselves  with  a  past  epoch.  The  style, 
which  in  its  own  day  was  a  transparent  evil,  exactly 
suited  to  the  thought,  actually  obscures  it  nowa- 
days, like  an  opaque  and  many-colored  curtain,  the 
strange  design  and  color  of  which  confuse  and  blind 
us.  I  once  attended  a  popular  reading  of  Macbeth 
by  Maurice  Bouchor.  I  tried  to  forget  myself  and 
become  one  of  the  people;  but  I  felt  ill  at  ease,  and 
almost  ashamed  when  I  heard  certain  metaphors, 
the  archaic  grandeur  of  which,  under  the  circum- 
stances, assumed  an  obscure  and  impossibly  absurd 
importance.  Ought  we  then  to  divest  Shakespeare 
of  the  charming  and  barbaric  beauty  of  his  style? 
That  were  a  sacrilegious  and  perilous  task,  exceed- 
ingly difficult  for  those  who  love  him.  And  it  would 
not,  besides,  preserve  the  integrity  of  the  rest.  It 
would  be  necessary  to  cut,  slash,  and  modify,  both 
characters  and  plot,  in  order  to  make  the  plays 
suitable   to  our  public.      The   English   themselves 


40  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

have  felt  free  to  do  this,  and  also  the  Germans,  with 
all  their  boasts  about  exactitude,  and  their  famous 
translations,  "  almost  as  good  as  the  original " — 
what  volumes  this  phrase  tells  of  their  appreciation ! 
And  we  in  France  have  all  the  more  reason  to  accept 
such  profanation,  though  without  doubt  the  popular 
audiences  in  this  country  come  nearer  to  appreciat- 
ing certain  sides  of  Shakespeare's  work  than  the 
ordinary  audience.  They  understand  what  is  in- 
stinctive and  violent  in  it;  but  still,  how  immeas- 
urably far  from  his  myriad-minded  genius  do  they 
still  remain !  It  is  a  pitiful  thing  to  have  to  bring 
the  works  of  a  great  man  down  to  the  level  of  the 
masses ! 

We  should  also  be  forced  to  mutilate  the  plays  of 
the  great  poetic  dramatists  of  the  beginning  of  the 
nineteenth  century.  Among  the  popular  dramas  of 
that  time,  I  should  beyond  all  question  put  the  Wil- 
helm  Tell  of  Schiller,  and  the  Prinz  Fricdrich  von 
Homhtirg  of  Heinrich  von  Kleist,  the  most  power- 
ful of  German  tragic  writers.  Kleist's  work  is 
passionate  and  grandiose;  even  nowadays  it  arouses 
great  enthusiasm  among  German  audiences,  but  it 
is  the  very  apotheosis  of  the  Prussian  monarchical 
ideal,  and  we  might  be  somewhat  embarrassed  to 
further  that.  But  the  play  is  valuable  to  us  be- 
cause it  is  an  almost  unique  type  of  the  patriotic 
drama,  in  the  best  sense  of  the  term,  without  jingo- 
ism, and  without  the  usual  flattery  of  the  base  in- 
stincts of  the  multitude.  As  for  the  admirable 
Wilhelm  Tell,  vibrating  with  thick  red  blood  and 


FOREIGN  PLAYS  41 

interpreting  the  honest  genius  of  the  heroic  Bour- 
geoisie of  the  Revolution,  it  is  an  excellent  popular 
play  for  the  Germans.  This  was  proved  to  me  at 
various  times,  by  productions  at  Altorf :  the  parts 
were  played  by  the  Bourgeoisie  and  the  people  of 
the  Canton;  the  public  gathers  to  witness  the  spec- 
tacle, participates  in  the  action,  and  echoes  as  it  were 
the  burning  words  of  liberty.  I  believe  that  popu- 
lar art  can  show  no  nobler  figure  than  Tell,  the 
German  Hercules,  the  athletic  dreamer,  slow  to 
make  up  his  mind,  possessed  with  a  great  but  silent 
power,  in  whose  mind  thoughts  and  emotions  sleep 
as  in  a  majestic  lake,  the  surface  of  which  the  winds 
can  hardly  ruffle,  but  which,  once  aroused,  is  like 
the  sea.  But  the  German  elements  in  the  play — 
the  cold  dissertations,  the  stolidity  of  character  in 
the  people,  the  sentiment,  and  romantic  simplicity — 
would  have  to  be  deleted.  And  what  remains? 
The  other  plays  of  Schiller  would  be  of  no  use 
to  us. 

Among  the  men  a  little  nearer  our  own  time,  some 
have  attempted  to  write  directly  for  the  people: 
Raimund  and  Anzengruber  in  Austria,  Tolstoy  and 
Gorki  in  Russia,  and  Hauptmann  in  Germany.  But 
even  among  the  plays  of  these  dramatists,  such 
works  as  The  Weavers  and  The  Power  of  Dark- 
ness, long-drawn-out  cries  of  misery  and  spectacles 
of  abject  horror,  seem  intended  rather  to  awaken 
the  consciences  of  the  rich  than  to  encourage  and 
amuse  the  poor,  who  are  already  sore  pressed  under 
the  burden  of  their  existence.     Or,  at  most,  they 


42  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

appeal  to  only  a  few  among  them,  the  radicals,  the 
leaders  of  future  revolutions.  It  is  absurd  to  imag- 
ine that  such  pitiful  spectacles  could  assume  a  place 
in  the  repertory  of  a  people  who  have  cast  off  the 
shackles  of  slavery.  They  are  the  nightmares 
which  it  is  hoped  they  will  shun.  As  for  Anzen- 
gruber,^  it  seems  that  he  wrote  for  a  popular  audi- 
ence, and  he  has  at  least  created  a  few  popular  types. 
Some  of  his  plays  are  up-to-date  by  reason  of  their 
anti-clerical  protest,  but  on  the  whole  they  are  better 
adapted  to  the  lower  Bourgeoisie  of  Vienna  than  to 
the  masses,  for  Anzengruber  lacked  the  necessary 
genius  to  carry  his  local  observations  into  the  realm 
of  the  universal.  He  is  an  interesting  example  of  a 
dramatist  who  avoided  excess,  and  addressed  the 
people  without  flattery  and  without  contempt, 
exhibiting  to  them  the  spectacle  of  their  own 
lives. 

And  finally,  we  come  at  the  end  of  the  century  to 
the  imposing  name  of  the  mighty  Wagner.  Wag- 
ner, the  greatest  composer  since  Beethoven,  was  at 
the  same  time  the  greatest  dramatic  poet  since  Schil- 
ler and  Goethe.  He  has  depicted  unforgettable 
characters  of  superhuman  dimensions,  comparable 
to  the  heroes  of  antiquity:  Siegmund,  Siegfried, 
Brunnhilde.  With  one  stroke  he  gave  us  a  model 
play  for  a  People's  Theater  in  that  brilliant  fresco 
Die  Meister  singer,  a  work  overflowing  with 
strength,  humor,  color,  and  movement.     The  people 

^  See  M.  Auguste  Ehrhard's  articles  on  Anzengruber  in  the 
Revue  d'art  dramatique,  July-August,  1897. 


FOREIGN  PLAYS  43 

literally  overrun  it  in  their  tumultuous  joy,  while 
the  good  humor  of  the  masses  seems  concentrated 
in  the  heroic  kindliness  of  old  Hans  Sachs,  who 
stands  for  the  profound  and  serene  conscience  of  the 
people.  Unfortunately,  Wagner's  drama  is  indis- 
solubly  linked  with  music,  a  consideration  of  which 
we  have  avoided,  for  it  complicates  our  inquiry. 
I  think  it  useless  to  enter  into  the  question  at  this 
time.  The  musical  education  of  the  people  has 
scarcely  begun  in  France,  and  many  years  must 
elapse  before  its  completion.  Until  that  time  let  us 
not  trouble  ourselves  with  the  Wagnerian  music- 
drama,  though  we  may  admit  that  that  form  of 
German  art  has  a  splendid  chance  to  take  root  in 
French  soil.  At  all  events,  if  we  need  music,  let 
us  first  offer  the  people  the  virile  meditations  and 
healthy  sorrows  of  the  most  heroic  of  men,  allowing 
Beethoven  to  precede  Wagner.^  Wagner's  plays,  in 
spite  of  their  grandeur,  are  full  of  unhealthy  dreams, 
reminiscent  of  their  source — the  aristocracy  of  a 
decadent  art  which  had  reached  the  last  stage  of  its 
evolution,  almost  of  its  life.  What  profit  can  the 
people  derive  from  the  abnormal  sentimental  com- 
plications of  Wagner,  the  excessive  eroticism,  the 
metaphysics  of  Valhalla,  Tristan's  death-scented 
love,  the  mystico-carnal  torments  of  the  Knights  of 
the  Holy  Grail?  It  all  flows  from  sources  tainted 
with  neo-Christian  or  neo-Buddhist  refinement, 
translated  into  decidedly  mortal  and  physical  action, 

'  Certainly  Meyerbeer  and  Adolphe  Adam,  so  dear  to  the 
hearts  of  M.  Bernheim  and  his  associates. 


44  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

and  all  set  into  a  gorgeous  framework,  though  the 
basis  be  rotten.  In  the  name  of  Heaven,  let  us  not 
give  the  people  our  diseases — no  matter  how  com- 
placently we  may  cultivate  them  ourselves!  Let 
us  strive  to  create  a  healthier  and  a  better  race  1 


CHAPTER  VI 

The  Plays  of  the  Past  Offer  No  More  than  a  Series  of 
Popular  Readings.  No  Material  for  a  People's 
Theater.  Readings  are  Not  Enough:  We  Must 
Have  a  Theater 

We  have  now  come  to  the  end  of  our  rapid  survey 
of  the  past.  What  remains  of  all  the  wealth  that 
has  been?  A  very  few  plays,  not  one  of  which  we 
can  use  in  its  entirety :  a  repertory  of  popular  read- 
ings, but  no  plays  for  a  People's  Theater. 

Then  why  not  resign  ourselves,  with  Maurice 
Bouchor  and  many  others,  to  the  reading  of  plays 
in  cut  versions,  accompanied  by  explanatory  re- 
marks, summing  up  the  whole  with  a  neat  moral? 
In  the  first  place,  because — I  say  it  frankly — we 
must  consider  not  only  the  good  of  the  people,  we 
must  respect  art  and  the  products  of  great  minds. 
Among  all  man's  creations,  which  alone  give  mean- 
ing to  his  existence,  I  have  an  unbounded  admira- 
tion for  the  theater:  it  is  man's  statue,  shaped  by 
himself  out  of  his  own  imagination,  a  flaming  image 
of  the  universe,  itself  a  greater  universe.  The 
equivocal  dramatic  reading  is  only  a  pale  reflex  of 
the  actual  theatrical  performance,  which  stands  in 
much  the  same  relation  to  it  as  the  photograph  to 
the  original,   the   pianoforte   transcription   to   the 

45 


46  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

orchestral  symphony.  It  cannot  be  denied  that  this 
is  popularizing  art,  but  if  popularizing  means  vul- 
garizing, then  we  are  opposed  to  popularization. 
It  is  our  purpose  to  infuse  new  blood  into  art,  and 
expand  its  narrow  chest  by  giving  it  the  health  and 
strength  of  the  masses.  We  are  not  offering  the 
glorious  products  of  the  human  mind  to  the  people; 
we  appeal  to  the  people  to  serve  the  cause  of  art.^ 

But  we  believe  we  can  better  serve  the  cause  of 
art  through  the  medium  of  the  People's  Theater 
than  by  popular  readings.  No  matter  what  charm 
the  reader  brings  to  his  work,  that  work  is  still 
only  a  sort  of  primary  education,  thrusting  as  it 
does  the  teacher  between  art  and  the  public.  In 
spite  of  all,  the  reading  is  a  sort  of  preachment — 
intended  as  such  by  the  reader,  for  he  wishes  grad- 
ually to  initiate  the  people  into  the  wonders  of  art; 
but  so  careful  is  he,  that  he  selects  what  he  considers 
the  best  of  the  theater  and  gives  it  to  the  people 
without  the  dangers  of  actual  theatrical  production, 
without  the  flesh-and-blood  suggestiveness  of  acting 
which  he  considers  bad  for  his  audience.  But  it 
seems  to  me  that  he  merely  substitutes  one  danger 

*  We  must  not  forget  Dickens,  whose  success  as  a  public 
reader,  first  at  Birmingham  in  1853,  but  principally  between 
1858  and  1870,  both  in  England  and  America,  induced  many 
others  to  follow  in  his  steps.  Certain  Frenchmen,  however, 
were  before  him.  In  1848  E.  Souvestre  spoke  before  the 
workingmen  of  Paris  in  his  Lectures  publiques  du  Soir  (see 
Sainte-Beuve :  Causerics  du  Lundi,  I,  275).  At  about  the 
same  time,  Carnot  offered  V.  Duruy  the  position  of  "  Reader 
to  the  People"  (see  Paul  Crouzet:  Litterature  et  Conferences 
Populaxres). 


PLAYS  OF  THE  PAST  47 

for  another,  for  the  men  and  women  of  the  Bour- 
geoisie are  just  as  anxious  to  read  and  lecture  as 
to  act;  they  are  born  with  the  innate  desire  of 
exhibiting  to  a  complacent  audience  their  petty 
talents;  speaking  pieces  and  playing  the  piano.  I 
am  not  sure  which  is  worse,  but  I  do  know  that  there 
is  more  of  the  amateur  spirit  in  the  drawing-room 
than  on  the  stage.  I  have  often  noticed  the  irritat- 
ing effect  produced  by  the  reader  in  his  effort  to 
avoid  placing  a  work  of  art  fairly  and  squarely  be- 
fore his  audience.  He  is  forced  to  make  humiliat- 
ing explanations,  and  he  little  realizes  that  nothing 
is  so  oft'ensive  to  the  people  as  to  be  treated  like  chil- 
dren. They  are  furious  when  they  perceive  a  bour- 
geois reader  condescending  to  stoop  to  their  level. 
This  is  what  I  object  to  in  public  readings,  for  the 
reader  treats  the  people  as  if  they  were  little  children 
learning  to  walk.  Put  them  in  a  theater  and  they 
will  be  forced  to  walk  by  themselves ;  and  there  is  no 
better  practice.  The  drama  is  a  living  example, 
contagious  and  irresistible;  it  exists  in  an  atmos- 
phere of  glory,  it  is  a  battlefield  where  the  people 
are  thrust  into  the  midst  of  human  action  in  pursuit 
of  the  hero,  for  they  admire  him  and  wish  to  emu- 
late him.  The  eloquence  of  the  orator  is  the  only 
rival  to  the  theater  in  its  effect  on  the  masses;  the 
public  reading  is  nothing  compared  with  it.  The 
reader  appeals  to  the  senses  indirectly;  he  touches 
only  the  brain,  for  he  fears  the  rude  shock  of  phy- 
sical action.  But  this  is  cowardly.  We  must  see 
to  it  that  the  physical  well-being  of  the  people  is 


48  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

looked  after,  for  this  is  the  basis  of  our  whole  civi- 
lization. It  is  the  glory  of  the  theater  that  it  deals 
directly  with  the  instincts,  and  portrays  them  vividly. 
Of  course,  we  must  try  to  perfect  man — despite  his 
character — by  appealing  to  his  intellect,  but  it  is 
better  to  go  straight  to  nature,  for  the  truly  great 
man  is  he  who  is  great  naturally,  without  realizing 
it.  We  recognize  the  temporary  value  of  public 
readings :  they  are  for  the  time  being  excellent  pro- 
paganda. The  entertainments  where  a  little  dec- 
lamation and  a  bit  of  music  are  served  up  in  a 
heterogeneous  mass  are  perhaps  necessary  to  stir 
the  sluggish  minds  of  the  people  who,  through  long 
attendance  at  cheap  "  shows,"  have  lost  the  power 
of  prolonged  concentration.  Let  us  take  the  read- 
ings for  what  they  are  worth :  as  a  sort  of  supple- 
mentary night  school,  a  preparatory  course  to  the 
appreciation  of  true  art.  They  are  provisional 
quarters,  constructed  in  great  haste,  erected  for  use 
until  the  permanent  building  shall  be  ready  for  oc- 
cupancy. But  let  us  not  rest  content  with  these 
wooden  huts,  and  mistake  the  architect's  shed  at  the 
foot  of  the  cathedral  for  the  cathedral  itself. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  T RENTE  ANS  DE  THEATRE  AND 
POPULAR  GALAS 

The  Gluvrc  des  Trente  ans  de  Theatre  claim  to 
have  erected  such  a  cathedral,  overnight,  out  of  the 
chaotic  ruins  of  the  past. 

In  this  movement  we  must  distinguish  the  chari- 
table from  the  purely  artistic  aims.  "  It  was  orig- 
inally founded  to  supply  emergency  funds  not  only 
to  needy  authors  and  actors,  both  of  whom  have 
their  own  societies,  but  to  anyone  connected  with  the 
theater :  authors,  actors,  critics,  mechanics,  scene- 
painters,  and  the  hke,  any  one  of  whom,  after  thirty 
years'  work  and  struggle,  might  apply  for  assist- 
ance. Likewise  those  incapacitated  for  work  by  a 
death  in  the  family,  or  illness."  ^  Nothing  could  be 
more  praiseworthy,  and  it  is  only  surprising  that 
the  Parisians  were  so  slow  in  offering  assistance  to 
those  who  had  amused  them  for  a  lifetime.  M. 
Adrien  Bernheim  deserves  great  credit  for  having 
instituted  such  a  movement  and  devoted  all  his 
energies  to  make  it  a  success.  The  man  who  does 
things,  even  though  he  be  mistaken,  is  always  better 
than  he  who  only  talks,  no  matter  how  well  he 
does  it. 

'Adrien  Bernheim,  in  Trente  ans  de  Theatre  (1903). 

49 


50  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

I  am  not  considering  the  charitable  aspect,  how- 
ever, but  the  artistic,  for  the  promoters  of  the 
(Euvrc  pretend  to  have  founded  a  true  People's 
Theater. 

UCEuvre  des  Trente  ans  dc  Theatre,  the  organ- 
izers of  which  first  met  on  December  30,  1901,  made 
its  bow  in  May,  1902,  with  five  performances:  at 
the  Theatre  de  Montparnasse,  the  Theatre  de 
Crenelle,  the  Theatre  des  Gobelins,  the  Theatre  de 
Saint-Denis,  and  the  Concert  Eiiropeen  in  the  Rue 
Riot.  These  performances  consisted  of  selections 
from  miscellaneous  works,  classic  and  romantic 
plays,  operettas,  vocal  music,  and  dancing.  Among 
the  performers  were  Miles.  Moreno,  Fugere,  the 
Mante  Sisters,  Paulette,  Darty,  and  Polin,  not  to 
mention  the  lecturers,  without  whom  no  fashionable 
function  is  complete!  Then,  in  October,  1902,  be- 
gan the  series  of  classic  performances,  with  actors 
from  the  State  theaters,  the  Comedie-Frangaise  in 
particular.  During  the  first  season,  from  October 
to  June,  there  were  twenty-five  Popular  Galas. 
Horace  was  given  in  the  Salle  Wagram,  Andro- 
maque  and  Tartiiffe  at  Ba-ta-clan,  he  Misanthrope 
in  Bellevile  at  the  Bouffes-dii-Nord,  the  Theatre 
Marguera,  and  the  Theatre  Trianon;  Le  Malade 
imaginaire  at  the  Salle  Huyghcns;  L'Arlesienne  at 
the  Salle  Humbert  de  Romans,  etc.,  etc.  Dancing, 
fragments  from  operas,  and  the  inevitable  ad- 
dresses, were  likewise  a  part  of  all  these  programs.^ 

*  This  idea  had  already  occurred  to  M.  Camille  de  Sainte- 
Croix.    In  his  articles  contributed  to  La  Petite  Republique 


THE  TRENTE  ANS  DE  THEATRE        51 

And  the  names  of  all  living  composers  and  authors 
were  systematically  omitted  in  making  up  programs. 
M.  Larroumet,  the  self-made  godfather  of  the  move- 
ment, says :  "  The  great  repertory  went  to  the  people, 
into  their  own  neighborhoods,  and  in  their  own 
theaters." 

But  let  us  see  how  this  worked  out.  We  have 
already  considered  the  "  popular  "  performances  of 
Andromaque  and  Tartuffe.  Let  me  take  the  twen- 
tieth Popular  Gala  as  a  typical  example.  This  took 
place  Thursday,  April  2,  1903. 

The  following  prices  were  asked  for  seats : 

Orchestra Fr.  3.00 

Balcony    2.50 

First  gallery 2.00 

Remaining  seats i.oo 

This  tariff  is  not  excessive,  but  I  must  call  your 
attention  to  the  fact  that  at  that  time  the  cheapest 
seats  at  the  Thedtre-Frangais  (usual  rates)  were 
one  franc,  and  at  the  Odeon  fifty  centimes.     This  is 

in  1887,  he  suggested  that  companies  of  actors  from  the  sub- 
sidized theaters  should  play  in  the  outlying  houses,  but  after 
studying  the  question  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was 
not  worth  while,  and  sought  to  realize  a  plan  more  truly 
popular.  The  same  year,  1887,  M.  Ritt,  director  of  the 
Opera,  submitted  to  Minister  Fallieres  a  scheme  for  a  people's 
theater,  for  which  the  companies  of  the  four  State  theaters 
would  be  called  upon  two  days  a  week,  and  for  two  large 
symphony  concerts.  But  he  demanded  a  permanent  theater, 
a  personnel  of  singers,  dancers,  and  musicians.  This  idea 
was  further  developed  in  1902,  before  the  Chamber,  by  M. 
Couyba,  of  the  Department  of  Fine  Arts. 


52  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

the  ordinary  tariff.  If,  however,  we  turn  to  the 
reduced  tariff  at  the  Odeon,  we  shall  find  it  lower 
than  that  at  the  Trente  ans,  orchestra  seats  costing 
only  Fr.  2.50,  the  second  and  third  rows  of  the  bal- 
cony Fr.  2.00,  the  gallery  and  the  remaining  seats 
from  Fr.  1.50  down  to  fifty  centimes. 

According  to  the  diagram  of  the  Theatre  Trianon, 
there  are  about  350  seats  at  Fr,  3.00,  180  at  Fr. 
2.50,  190  at  Fr.  2.00,  and  100  at  Fr.  i.oo.  Alto- 
gether about  530  seats  averaging  over  Fr.  2.00  each, 
and  100  averaging  less.  I  do  not  think  these  very 
popular  prices.  And  think  of  the  difference  in  the 
seats !  This  inequality  invariably  arouses  ill-feel- 
ing in  an  audience  of  workingmen,  for  they  demand 
that  all  seats  be  equally  good. 

And  to  this  tariff  we  must  add  from  ten  to 
twenty-five  centimes  per  person  for  check-room 
fees,  which  might  well  amount  to  more  than  a  franc 
for  a  family  of  three.  There  is  also  the  ouvreuse — 
the  woman-usher — who  must  needs  extract  her  small 
profit.  If  all  this  is  popular,  I  am  indeed  delighted, 
for  it  proves  that  the  people  are  well-off. 

But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  audience  at  the 
Theatre  Trianon  was  not  composed  of  the  people, 
but  of  the  Bourgeoisie,  whose  fashionable  clothes 
might  well  arouse  envy  in  the  breasts  of  an  Odeon 
audience.  It  may  be  urged,  however,  that  it  is  hard 
to  distinguish  a  Parisian  workingman  from  a  bour- 
geois simply  by  his  clothes.  That  may  be  true,  but 
I  can  scarcely  believe  that  any  workingman  would, 
after  his  day's  labor,  put  on  a  frock  coat  and  silk 


THE  TRENTE  ANS  DE  THEATRE        53 

hat  to  go  to  the  theater.  It  was  the  Bourgeoisie,  in 
its  well-known  uniform,  which  filled  the  theater 
from  orchestra  to  gallery.  By  the  way,  it  was  sig- 
nificant that  the  Fr.  2.50  and  Fr.  3.00  seats  were 
filled  and  the  Fr.  i.oo  seats  practically  empty. 

Ladies  and  gentlemen  were  seen  gazing  at  one 
another  through  their  opera-glasses  while  waiting 
for  the  curtain  to  rise.  Of  course,  it  rose  late.  The 
eternal  address  began  at  nine,  and  the  play  at  half- 
past.  There  were  two  long  waits,  and  the  curtain 
finally  fell  at  a  quarter  to  twelve.  Nothing  could 
be  better  calculated  to  fit  in  with  the  workingman's 
hours ! 

After  the  address  by  the  gentleman  in  black  and 
the  usual  compliments  to  Cardinal  Richelieu  and 
the  Company — I  mean  M.  Adrien  Bernheim  and  the 
CEuvre — actors  from  the  Comedie-Frangaise  per- 
formed Le  Misanthrope.  The  announcement  of 
this  play  had  a  particular  attraction  for  me.  Le 
Misanthrope  is,  so  to  speak,  Moliere's  Wild  Duck, 
the  poet's  pessimistic  and  ironic  work,  in  which  the 
great  man,  after  satirizing  others,  turns  his  shafts 
against  himself.  I  was  curious  to  observe  the  effect 
on  the  people — and  lo,  there  were  no  people!  In- 
stead, the  local  aristocracy.  They  were  very  atten- 
tive and  appeared  intelligent  and  interested,  but  they 
evinced  precious  little  pleasure.  I  felt  that  the  audi- 
ence was  watching  itself  and  not  demonstrating  its 
true  feelings:  they  seemed  to  me  like  well-bred  but 
humble  hosts  entertaining  guests  far  above  them  in 
rank  and  name.     They  were  appreciative  and  felt 


54  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

flattered,  taking  good  care  not  to  show  their  bore- 
dom, applauding  where  applause  seerned  called  for 
— after  their  guests  had  spoken.  But  we  need  pro- 
ceed no  further  with  our  inquiry.  M.  Larochelle 
junior,  a  director  of  one  of  the  outlying  theaters, 
once  said  to  M.  Bernheim :  "  Moliere  and  Racine 
will  never  succeed  in  these  neighborhoods  unless 
they  are  played  by  the  Comedie-Frangaise — and  even 
then,  not  too  frequently.  Take  my  word  for  it.  Be 
careful  not  to  give  them  too  many  classics.  One 
performance  a  season,  or  at  most  one  every  three 
months,  will  be  quite  enough."  ^  I  ask  you,  do  two 
productions  a  year  constitute  a  People's  Theater? 
And  these  performances  being  as  I  have  described 
them,  are  they  really  for  the  people? 

The  production  of  Berenice  at  this  same  Theatre 
Trianon  (the  twenty-fifth  Popular  Gala,  June  17, 
1903)  is  still  more  characteristic.  Almost  all  the 
seats — all  the  orchestra  and  boxes — were  reserved 
several  days  in  advance.  The  audience  included 
even  fewer  of  the  people  than  the  one  I  saw  at 
Le  Misanthrope.  Many  were  in  evening  dress,  but 
there  was  not  a  single  workingman  anywhere.  That 
made  no  difference  to  the  lecturer,  M.  Auguste  Dor- 
chain,  who  addressed  the  fashionable  audience  as 
if  they  had  been  rough  laborers;  and  it  made  no 
difference  to  the  audience,  who  thought  it  a  great 
compliment  to  be  so  treated,  and  wildly  applauded 
him. — Who  is  wrong? 

Such  being  the  case,  it  is  evident  that  the  pro- 

*  In  Le  Temps,  Feb.  12,  1903. 


0 


THE  T RENTE  ANS  DE  THEATRE        55 

meters  of  the  CEuvre  des  Trentc  ans  could  well  af- 
ford to  risk  giving  at  a  Popular  Gala  the  most 
aristocratic  of  all  Racine's  plays,  one  that  appears 
to  have  been  written  for  the  education  of  princes, 
one  indeed  which  the  present  crowned  heads  of 
Europe — in  Saxony  and  Serbia,  for  instance! — 
would  do  well  to  put  into  the  hands  of  their  sons 
("For  my  sons  when  they  reach  the  age  of 
twenty"),  and  even  contemplate  themselves;  but 
which  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  people/  I  wish 
to  add  that  the  pill  was  sugar-coated,  for  the  trag- 
edy was  sandwiched  in  between  two  generous  doses 
of  stupid  or  light  songs,  and  the  hero  of  the  occasion 
was— with  Mme.  Bartet— M.  Polin! 

Of  course,  not  all  the  performances  were  like  that 
at  the  Trianon.  The  one  given  on  February  18, 
1903,  at  the  Salle  Huyghens,  for  instance,  where 
the  Comedie-Frangaisc  played  Lc  Malade  imagi- 
nairc,  was  a  popular-priced  production.  And  the 
audience  was  far  different.  In  the  cheap  seats  were 
to  be  found  true  representatives  of  the  working 
classes — and  in  goodly  numbers.  Still,  the  ma- 
jority of  seats  were  occupied  by  the  lower  Bour- 

'  The  program  consisted  of  songs  by  Mme.  Anna  Thibaud 
and  M.  Cooper ;  Berenice  of  Racine  by  the  Comcdie-Fran- 
qaise  and  songs  by  M.  Polin. 

I  do  not  here  refer  to  literary  performances,  and  there  is 
too  much  to  say  about  the  musical  programs.  At  least,  the 
Comedie-Frangaisc  and  the  Odeon  have  masterpieces  in  their 
repertories.  But  the  repertories  of  our  State  theaters  are 
littered  with  pretentious  and  stupid  music:  Meyerbeer  operas, 
Adam  opera-comiques,  etc.,  vapid  things,  without  sincerity  or 
style.     Enough  to  kill  all  taste  for  music  in  the  people. 


56  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

geoisie.  I  admit  that  they  are  no  less  interesting 
than  the  people,  as  M.  Noziere  ^  affirms.  But  unless 
this  so-called  popular  public  is  different  from  the 
public  which  frequents  the  Theatre-Frangais  and 
the  Odeon,  how  can  we  progress?  I  hstened  care- 
fully to  the  conversations  carried  on  about  me  at 
these  Popular  Galas.  At  the  Salic  Huyghcns,  after 
Le  Malade  imaginaire,  I  heard  two  people  compar- 
ing Coquelin's  interpretation  of  the  role  there,  and 
his  usual  performance  at  the  Theatre-Frangais.  At 
the  Theatre  Trianon  my  neighbors  were  still  better 
informed :  they  had  seen  Silvain  in  his  various  roles 
and  knew  how  many  years  Dehelly  had  been  with 
the  Comedie-Frangaise.  Surely  there  is  no  need  to 
erect  people's  theaters  if  the  audiences  are  to  be  com- 
posed of  such  individuals.  And  remember,  I  am 
not  speaking  of  the  public  in  the  best  seats. 

Or  even  admit  that  this  venture — performers  and 
public  alike — are  of  the  people.  What  does  the  ex- 
periment prove?  You  will  recall  the  Universites 
populaires,  and  the  victory  they  claimed;  now  they 
are  practically  extinct.  You  do  not  know  how  to 
observe  the  people.  So  long  as  they  applaud  you, 
you  ask  nothing  more:  you  do  not  trouble  to  find 
out  what  they  think.  The  people  are  respectful, 
and  they  believe  in  you,  but  neither  their  respect 
nor  their  faith  is  eternal.  They  spy  on  you,  and 
they  judge  you.  Three  years  ago,  at  one  of  the 
lectures  given  under  the  auspices  of  the  Universites 
populaires  where  I  was  studying  the  public,  I  said 

'  In  Le  Temps.  Feb.  2^,  1903- 


r  /» 


THE  TRENTE  ANS  DE  THEATRE       57 

to  the  promoters  of  that  scheme :  "  Take  care.  They 
are  bored."  And  they  replied :  "  But  they  applaud." 
They  might  almost  have  answered :  "  Let  them  be 
bored,  provided  they  applaud !  "  And  now  they 
cease  to  come  at  all.  I  repeat  again :  "  Take  care. 
They  applaud,  but  they  are  bored.  They  have  come 
to  see,  but  when  they  have  come  two,  three,  five, 
ten  times,  when  they  have  seen  what  your  classics 
are,  your  miserable  handful  of  classics,  they  will 
cease  to  come."  So  would  I.  So  do  I.  Yes,  I 
admire  the  great  classics,  with  the  best  of  my  intelli- 
gence. I  fed  upon  them  during  ten  years  of  my 
youth,  and  I  often  turn  to  them  now  when  I  am 
tired  of  life.  But  how  far  they  are  from  this  life, 
from  my  worries,  my  dreams,  and  my  daily  struggle 
for  existence !  As  M.  Faguet  recently  said,  "  What 
is  admirable  and  what  is  interesting  are  two  very 
different  things."  The  sincere  disciples  of  the 
classic  writers  do  not  deny  that  this  difference  exists, 
but  they  bravely  maintain  that  interest  is  not  an 
essential  element  in  art.  "  I  should  say,"  declares 
M.  Maurice  Pottecher,  "  that  one  might  even  feel  a 
little  bored  with  a  work  of  art,  without  ceasing  to 
admire  it  and  sensing  its  perfection.  The  sensation 
aroused  by  ^schylus,  Aristophanes,  Dante,  Shake- 
speare, is  far  from  the  sentimental  pleasure  derived 
from  a  work  capable  of  moving  us  to  tears.  But  is 
a  successful  farce  or  a  good  melodrama  better  than 
The  Wasps  or  Hamlet  f  ^  Alas,  it  would  at  least 
enjoy  the  stupendous  advantage  over  these  master- 

'  In  the  Revue  d'art  dramatique,  March  15,  1903. 


58  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

pieces  of  being  alive.  No  beauty,  no  grandeur  can 
take  the  place  of  youth  and  life.  Instead  of  dis- 
daining life  and  allowing  it  to  fall  a  prey  to  un- 
worthy artisans,  let  us  try  to  go  to  life;  only  you 
must  not  hope  to  be  able  to  get  it  from  those  dis- 
tant summits  where  rise,  far  from  the  turmoil  of 
our  present  existence,  the  beautiful  temples  of  the 
past.  Let  us  not  be  afraid  to  confess  it :  your  dis- 
interested art  is  an  art  for  old  men.  It  is  good,  it 
is  natural  that  we  should  look  forward,  after  the 
accomplishment  of  our  tasks,  to  the  serenity  of 
Goethe,  to  beauty,  pure  and  simple.  That  is  all 
very  well  for  our  declining  years,  but  I  pity  the  man 
or  the  people  reaching  that  stage  prematurely, 
without  having  deserved  it.  That  man  or  that 
people  will  not  experience  the  supreme  beauty,  and 
the  serenity  will  turn  to  apathy,  which  is  the  herald 
of  death.  Life  means  constant  making  over,  and 
it  means  struggle.  Better  the  struggle,  with  all  the 
suffering  it  entails,  than  a  calm  and  beautiful  death. 
My  People's  Theater  is  of  no  party;  it  is  limit- 
less, eternal,  universal.  A  noble  dream,  yes,  but 
future  generations  will  realize  it,  if  they  can,  at  the 
end  of  time.  Meanwhile,  let  us  endeavor  to  put  a 
little  of  eternity  into  the  fleeting  moments  of  today; 
and  live  with  our  time.  Art  cannot  draw  apart 
from  the  aspirations  of  the  epoch.  The  People's 
Theater  must  share  the  people's  struggles,  their  wor- 
ries, their  hopes,  and  their  battles.  Frankly,  the 
People's  Theater  must  be  of  the  people,  or  it  will 
never  thrive.     You  protest  that  the  drama  should 


THE  TRENT E  ANS  DE  THEATRE        59 

have  nothing  to  do  with  pohtics,  and  yet  you  are  the 
first — as  I  proved  in  connection  with  your  perform- 
ance of  Tartuffe — to  insinuate  a  poHtical  signifi- 
cance into  your  productions  of  the  classics  in  order 
to  attract  the  people.  Do  you  deny  that  the  politics 
you  are  fighting  against  is  the  politics  which  is 
directed  against  yourselves?  You  have  felt  that 
the  People's  Theater  was  about  to  come,  and  you 
hasten  to  take  time  by  the  forelock  and  establish  a 
theater  for  yourselves  in  order  to  force  your  bour- 
geois theater  down  the  people's  throats.  Keep  it, 
we  do  not  want  it :  "  The  new  has  come,  and  the  old 
has  passed  away." 


PART  II 


PRECURSORS  OF  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER: 
ROUSSEAU,  DIDEROT,  THE  FRENCH 
REVOLUTION,  MICHELET 

Earliest  Experiments  in  the  People's  Theater 

The  first  men  who  appear  to  have  conceived  the 
idea  of  a  new  dramatic  art  for  the  new  society,  a 
People's  Theater  for  the  sovereign  people,  are 
among  the  precursors  of  the  Revolution,  the 
philosophers  of  the  eighteenth  century,  whose 
epoch-making  suggestions  sowed  in  every  corner  of 
the  earth  the  seeds  for  a  new  life:  above  all,  Jean- 
Jacques  Rousseau  and  Diderot — Rousseau,  who 
was  always  preoccupied  with  the  nation's  education, 
and  Diderot,  so  anxious  to  enrich  life,  exalt  its 
powers,  and  unite  men  in  a  Dionysiac  and  fraternal 

joy. 

Rousseau,  in  his  admirable  Lettre  sur  les  spec- 
tacles,^ that  profoundly  sincere  work  in  which  some 
have  pretended  to  discover  a  paradox  in  order  to 
escape  the  application  of  its  stern  moral — Rousseau, 
after  having  analyzed  the  theater  and  the  life  of  his 
day  with  the  pitilessly  clear  vision  of  a  Tolstoy,  does 
not  however  conclude  by  condemning  the  stage  in 
general,  for  he  perceives  the  possibility  of  a  regen- 
•  Lettre  a  d'Alembert,  1758. 
63 


64  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

eration  of  dramatic  art,  provided  it  is  given  a  na- 
tional and  popular  character,  as  with  the  Greeks. 
He  says : 

"  I  see  for  these  ills  but  one  remedy,  and  that  is 
that  we  write  our  own  plays  for  our  own  theater, 
and  that  we  have  dramatists  in  preference  to  actors. 
For  it  is  not  good  to  witness  imitations  of  every- 
thing under  the  sun,  but  only  of  what  is  fitting  for 
free  men.  The  Greek  plays,  based  upon  the  past 
misfortunes  of  the  nation  or  the  present  faults  of 
the  people,  might  well  offer  useful  lessons  to  the 
audience.  .  .  .  But  the  plays  of  the  Greeks  had  none 
of  the  nastiness  observable  in  the  plays  of  our  own 
time.  Their  theaters  were  not  built  for  purposes 
of  personal  aggrandizement;  theirs  were  not  obscure 
prisons;  the  actors  were  not  under  the  necessity  of 
levying  contributions  on  the  audience,  nor  to  count 
the  number  of  spectators  out  of  the  corner  of  their 
eye,  in  order  to  be  sure  of  their  supper.  Their 
grave  and  superb  spectacles,  given  under  the  open 
heavens  before  the  whole  nation,  presented  nothing 
but  combats,  victories,  prizes — things  capable  of  in- 
spiring emulation  and  sentiments  of  honor  and 
glory  in  the  breasts  of  all  the  people.  These  great 
plays  were  a  constant  source  of  instruction." 

But  Rousseau  had  another,  a  far  more  original 
and  democratic  idea  for  a  people's  theater :  People's 
festivals.  I  shall  touch  upon  this  point  a  little 
later  on. 

At  about  the  same  time  Diderot,  the  most  en- 
lightened and  broad-minded  of  the  geniuses  of  the 


PRECURSORS  OF  THE  THEATER       65 

eighteenth  century,  and  perhaps  the  most  fertile, 
who  was  less  concerned  with  the  educational  value 
of  the  stage  than  with  the  esthetic,  said  in  his  Para- 
doxc  sur  le  comedien:  "  We  have  yet  to  discover 
true  tragedy."  And  he  added,  in  his  Deuxieme 
entreticn  sur  le  Fils  naturel: 

"  Strictly  speaking,  there  are  no  popular  spec- 
tacles. The  theaters  of  antiquity  held  as  many  as 
eighty  thousand  spectators  at  one  time.  .  .  .  Think 
of  the  power  in  that  great  assemblage,  when  you 
consider  the  influence  of  one  man  on  another  and 
the  immediate  transmission  of  emotion  in  such 
crowds.  Forty  or  fifty  thousand  people,  gathered 
together,  will  not  be  restrained  by  motives  of  de- 
cency. .  .  .  ije  who  cannot  feel  within  him  an  .emo--. 
tion  arising  from  the  fact  that  he  is  one  of  a  great 
assemblage,  must  be  vicious  ibis  character  has  some- 
J~tRing  solitary  that  I  dislike.  And  if  the  size  of  this 
tremendous  audience  increases  the  emotion  of  the 
spectator,  what  will  it  not  do  for  the  author  and  the 
actor?  How  vastly  different  is  our  petty  theater, 
wherein  we  amuse  our  audiences  of  a  few  hundreds 
at  fixed  times,  and  at  fixed  hours!  What  if  we 
were  to  assemble  the  whole  nation  on  holidays !  " 

And  with  his  accustomed  clear-sightedness  and 
power  he  proceeds  to  sketch  some  of  the  artistic 
reforms  which  were  to  be  the  basis  of  the  new 
theater.  In  the  following  lines  Diderot  saw  a 
vision  beyond  not  only  the  art  of  his  day,  but  of 
our  own : 

"  In  order  to  effect  a  change  in  our  drama,  I  ask 


/ 


66  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

no  more  than  a  broad  stage,  where,  when  the  sub- 
ject demanded,  the  audience  might  see  a  wide  space 
with  several  buildings  at  a  time — the  peristyle  of  a 
palace,  the  entrance  to  a  temple — different  places 
where  the  audience  might  observe  every  event  of  the 
action;  while  one  section  should  be  hidden  for  the 
use  of  the  actors.  Such  was,  or  might  well  have 
been,  the  stage  on  which  The  Eumenidcs  of  ^schy- 
lus  was  performed.  Shall  we  ever  have  anything 
of  the  sort  on  our  stage?  There  zve  can  never 
show  more  than  one  action,  while  in  nature  there 
are  many  simultaneous  actions,  which,  if  performed 
at  the  same  time,  would  intensify  the  whole,  and 
produce  a  truly  terrible  and  wondrous  effect.  .  .  . 
We  are  waiting  for  the  genius  who  will  combine 
pantomime  with  dialogue,  mingling  dumb-shows 
with  spoken  scenes,  and  render  effective  the  com- 
bination; above  all,  the  approach,  terrible  or  comic, 
to  such  simultaneous  scenes." 

Diderot's  happy  inspiration  found  a  passionate 
echo  in  the  Shakespearians  of  the  Sturm  und  Drang- 
periode:  Gerstenberg,  Herder,  and  the  adolescent 
Goethe.^ 

Louis-Sebastien  Mercier,  an  original  man,  nour- 

*  Herder,  in  defending  Shakespeare  in  1773  and  holding  him 
up  as  the  ideal  dramatist,  showed  that  his  plots  were  not 
Greek  in  spirit,  but  belonged  rather  to  the  Middle  Age.  He 
said :  "  A  sea  of  events,  where  the  moaning  waves  follow 
each  other ;  that  is  Shakespeare.  Acts  of  nature  come  and 
go,  act  and  inter-act,  no  matter  how  dissimilar  they  may  be ; 
create  and  re-create,  and  destroy  in  turn,  in  order  to  realize 
the  ultimate  intention  of  the  Creator." 


PRECURSORS  OF  THE  THEATER       67 

ished  on  Shakespeare  and  the  Germans,  disciple 
of  Diderot  and  "  monkey  of  Jean-Jacques,"  as  he 
was  called,  brought  together  these  various  theories, 
and,  in  formal  terms  set  forth  in  his  Nouvel 
essai  sur  I' Art  dramatiquc  (1773)  and  the  Nouvel 
examen  de  la  Tragedie  frangaise  (1778),  demanded 
the  establishment  of  a  people's  theater,  inspired  by 
and  intended  for  the  people.  He  reminded  his 
readers  of  the  mysteries  of  the  Middle  Age;  and, 
combining  the  esthetic  theories  of  Diderot  and  the 
Shakespearians  with  the  moral  ideals  of  Rousseau, 
he  asked  for  a  "  theater  as  broad  as  the  universe," 
which  should  also  be  "  a  moral  spectacle  " ;  for  the 
first  duty  of  the  dramatic  poet,  he  says,  "  is  to  mould 
the  morals  and  manners  of  the  citizens."  And, 
practising  what  he  preached,  he  wrote  historical, 
political,  and  social  plays :  Jean  Henniiyer,  eveque 
de  Lisieux,  which  introduced  the  figure  of  an  apostle 
of  tolerance  at  the  time  of  the  Massacre  of  St. 
Bartholomew;  La  Mort  de  Louis  XI,  roi  de  France; 
La  Destruction  de  la  Ligue;  and  Philippe  II,  roi 
d'Espagne  (1785). 

After  Mercier,  other  French  writers  have  taken 
up  the  idea  of  a  national  theater,  that  is,  a  theater 
for  the  whole  nation.  Bernardin  de  Saint-Pierre, 
in  his  Treimeme  Etude  de  la  Nature  conjures  up  an 
ideal  French  Shakespeare  who  should  give  to  the 
assembled  people  the  great  scenes  of  the  Patrie,  and 
suggests  the  subject  of  Jeanne  d'Arc.  After  hav- 
ing traced  in  a  rapid  and  declamatory  style  the  scene 
of  Jeanne  at  the  stake,  he  says: 


68  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 


(( 


I  should  like  to  see  this  treated  by  a  man  of 
genius  after  the  manner  of  Shakespeare,  who  would 
not  have  failed,  had  Jeanne  d'Arc  been  English,  to 
make  a  great  patriotic  play  out  of  it;  the  celebrated 
shepherdess  would  have  become  for  us  the  patroness 
of  war,  as  Saint  Genevieve  is  of  peace.  Such  a  play 
would  be  performed  only  in  national  crises,  in  the 
presence  of  the  people,  just  as  Mahomet's  standard 
is  displayed  in  Constantinople.  And  I  have  no 
doubt  that  the  sight  of  her  innocence,  her  services, 
her  misfortunes,  and  the  cruelty  of  her  enemies  and 
horror  of  her  martyrdom,  our  people  could  not  re- 
strain themselves  from  crying  out :  '  War !  War 
against  the  English ! '  " 

In  1789  Marie-Joseph  Chenier  dedicated  his 
Charles  IX  ou  I'EcoIe  des  Rois  "  To  the  French 
Nation,"  with  these  words : 

"  Frenchmen  and  fellow-citizens :  accept  the  dedi- 
cation of  this  patriotic  tragedy.  I  dedicate  the  work 
of  a  free  man  to  a  free  nation.  .  .  .  Your  scene 
ought  to  change  with  the  others  that  have  just 
changed.  A  theater  in  which  there  are  only  petty 
females  and  slaves  is  no  longer  suited  to  a  nation 
of  men  and  of  citizens.  There  was  one  thing  lack- 
ing to  your  dramatic  poets;  it  was  not  genius,  and 
not  subjects,  but  an  audience.  (December  15, 
1789.)" 

And  again  he  says : 

"  The  theater  is  an  agent  of  public  education.  .  .  . 
Without  her  men  of  letters,  France  would  stand 
where  Spain  stands  at  this  moment.  .   .  .  We  have 


PRECURSORS  OF  THE  THEATER       69 

reached  the  most  important  epoch  of  French  his- 
tory, for  the  destiny  of  twenty-five  milHon  men  is 
about  to  be  decided.  .  .  .  Free  arts  succeed  the 
enslaved  arts;  the  theater,  so  long  effeminate  and 
abject,  will  henceforward  inspire  only  a  respect  of 
law,  love  of  liberty,  hatred  of  excess,  and  the  execra- 
tion of  tyrants."  ^ 

Mercier's  ideas  were  more  directly  influential 
upon  Schiller  in  Germany.  He  read  the  French- 
man's books,  translated  them,  and  made  them  his 
inspiration.  It  is  worthy  of  note  that  Mercier,  in 
his  Nouvel  Essai,  suggested  to  Schiller  the  theme  of 
IVilhelm  Tell,  as  Rousseau  had  suggested  Fiesco.^ 
And  it  is  highly  probable  that  Mercier  suggested 
certain  scenes  of  Don  Carlos.''  Nor  must  we  for- 
get the  link  that  bound  the  early  Revolutionary 
movement  with  the  man  whom  the  Convention 
made  a  French  citizen,  he  who  was  in  a  way  the 
great  poet  of  the  Revolution,  as  Beethoven  was 
the  great  composer :  the  author  of  Die  Rduber 
(1781-82),  of  In  Tyrannos  (Against  the  Tyrants), 
of  Fiesco,  "a  republican  tragedy"  (1783-84),  and 
of  Don  Carlos  (1785),  where  he  says  he  tried  to 
show  "  the  spirit  of  liberty  at  swords'  points  with 
despotism,  the  shackles  of  stupidity  broken,  the 
prejudices  of  a  thousand  years  swept  away;  a  na- 
tion demanding  the  rights  of  man;  republican  vir- 

'  Discours  de  la  liberie  du  theatre,  June  15,  1789. 
"  See  Albert  Kontz,  Les  Drames  de  la  jeimesse  de  Schiller, 
Leroux,  1899. 
•  Eighth  Letter  on  Don  Carlos,  1788. 


70  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

tues  put  into  practice  " — the  poet  of  the  Ode  to  Joy 
(1785),  drunk  with  liberty,  heroism,  and  fraternal 
love.^ 

"  The  theater,"  declared  Mercier,  "  is  the  most 
potent  and  direct  means  of  strengthening  human 
reason  and  enlightening  the  whole  nation." 

So    thought    the    Revolution.      It    appropriated 

Rousseau's  two  ideas :  {|)Opular  festivals  and  educa- 

jion^Srotiglr  Ihe'llieate-r.-.   The  idea  of  a  People^'s 

'  Goethe  kept  much  farther  aloof  from  the  Revolutionary 
spirit,  although  one  can  trace  its  influence  in  Egmont  (1788) 
where  the  dying  hero  says:  "  People,  defend  your  rights!  In 
order  to  save  what  you  hold  dear,  die  joyfully.  I  give  you 
an  example!"  But  the  man  who  preferred  injustice  to  dis- 
order, he  who  could  parody  the  Revolution  in  Der  Burger- 
general  (1793)  and  Die  Aufgeregten  (1793),  was  evidently 
unable  to  understand  art  for  the  people. 

And  yet,  toward  the  end  of  his  life,  he  began  to  have  some 
ideas  on  the  subject.  We  find  traces  of  them  in  his  Conver- 
sations with  Eckermann.  "  A  great  dramatic  poet,  if  he  is 
at  the  same  time  productive,  and  is  actuated  by  a  strong 
noble  purpose  which  pervades  all  his  works,  may  succeed 
in  making  the  soul  of  his  pieces  become  the  soul  of  the 
people.  I  should  think  that  this  was  something  well  worth 
the  trouble.  ...  A  dramatic  poet  who  knows  his  vocation 
should  therefore  work  incessantly  at  its  higher  development, 
in  order  that  his  influence  on  the  people  may  be  noble  and 
beneficial."     (April  i,  1827.) 

And  I  notice  in  certain  of  Goethe's  writings,  for  instance 
Wilhelm  Meister  (II,  III,  and  following),  short  descriptions 
of  people's  performances.  In  a  mountainous  district  (Hoch- 
dorf)  some  factory  workers  have  converted  a  barn  into  a 
theater ;  there  they  act  a  comedy  full  of  movement,  but  with- 
out characters:  two  rivals  abduct  a  young  girl  from  her 
guardian,  and  quarrel  over  her.  A  little  farther  on,  he 
describes  a  sort  of  improvised  popular  production  out-of- 
doors:  a  dialogue  between  a  miner  and  a  peasant. 


PRECURSORS  OF  THE  THEATER       71 

Theater  was  not  the  exclusive  property  of  any  one 
party,  for  we  find  men  of  opposite  and  antagonistic 
creeds  united  in  an  effort  to  establish  a  popular  form 
of  dramatic  art.  Mirabeau,  Talleyrand,  Lakanal, 
David,  Marie-Joseph  Chenier,  Danton,  Boissy 
d'Anglas,  Barere,  Carnot,  Saint-Just,  Robespierre, 
Billaud-Varennes,  Prieur,  Lindet,  Collot  d'Herbois, 
Couthen,  Payan,  Fourcade,  Bouquier,  Florian,  and 
many  another,  defended  the  cause  in  words,  on 
paper,  and  with  deeds.  Here  is  a  brief  summary  of 
certain  Revolutionary  documents  touching  on  the 
people's  festivals : 

In  a  report  dated  July  11,  1793,  relative  to  the 
festival  in  commemoration  of  the  loth  of  August, 
David  suggested  that  after  the  ceremony  in  the 
Champ-de-Mars — which  was  to  constitute  the  chief 
attraction — "  a  vast  theater  should  be  erected,  where 
the  chief  events  of  our  Revolution  shall  be  repre- 
sented in  pantomime."  As  a  matter  of  fact,  they 
performed  a  mimic  bombardment  of  the  city  of 
Lille.^ 

But  on  the  2d  of  August,  1793,  the  Committee 
of  Public  Safety,  "  desiring  to  mould  further  the 
sentiments  and  character  of  the  French  into  a  truer 
form  of  republicanism,"  proposed  a  "  regulation  of 
dramatic  performances,"  which  was  adopted  by  the 
Convention  after  a  speech  by  Couthon.  The  Con- 
vention decreed  that  between  the  4th  of  August  and 
the  1st  of  September — that  is,  at  the  time  when  the 

*  A   fortress  was  especially  erected  on  the  banks  of  the 
Seine. 


72  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

festivals  celebrating  the  loth  of  August  drew  to 
Paris  many  thousands  of  people  from  the  provinces 
— certain  theaters,  designated  by  the  municipality, 
should  three  times  a  week  perform  "  republican 
tragedies,"  such  as  Brutus,  Guillaume  Tell,  Caius 
Gracchus  .  .  .  one  of  these  performances  being 
given  each  week  at  the  expense  of  the  Re- 
public." ^ 

In  November,  1793,  following  up  the  celebrated 
discourse  by  Marie-Joseph  Chenier  on  popular  fes- 
tivals, Fabre  d'Eglantine  passed  a  measure  provid- 
ing for  national  theaters,  which  completed  the 
scheme  for  popular  festivals.  A  special  commission 
of  six  members  was  actually  chosen:  Romme, 
David,  Fourcroi,  Mathieu,  Bouquier,  and  Cloots. 
On  the  nth  of  Frimaire,  Year  II  (Dec.  i,  1793) 
Bouquier  drew  up  the  following  resolutions  in  his 
Plan  general  d' Instruction  publique  (section  IV: 
Du  dernier  degre  d' instruction)  : 

"Article  I.  Theaters  .  .  .  and  festivals  .  .  . 
are  a  part  of  the  *  second  degree '  of  public  instruc- 
tion. 

"Article  II.  In  order  to  facilitate  this  move- 
ment ...  the  Convention  declares  that  all  former 
churches  and  ecclesiastical  edifices  which  are  at 
present  empty  shall  belong  to  the  Communes." 

On  the  4th  of  Pluviose,  Year  II  (Jan.  2^,  1794) 
the  Convention,  under  the  presidency  of  Vadier, 
'  The  first  of  these  popular  performances  was  given  August 
6  at  the  Theatre  de  la  Republique.  Brutus  was  the  play,  and 
the  announcement  bore  the  inscription:  By  and  for  the 
People. 


PRECURSORS  OF  THE  THEATER       73 

divided  the  sum  of  100,000  livres  among  the  twenty 
theaters  of  Paris  which, 

"  according  to  the  decree  of  August  2  have  each 
given  four  performances  for  and  by  the  people." 

On  the  i2th  of  Pluviose  of  the  same  year  (Jan. 
31,  1794)  the  Committee  of  General  Surety  recom- 
mended to  the  directors  of  the  various  theaters  of 
Paris 

"  that  they  make  their  theaters  schools  of  man- 
ners and  decency  .  .  .  adding  to  their  patriotic 
plays  .  .  .  others  in  which  individual  virtue  should 
be  set  forth  in  all  its  grandeur." 

Boissy  d'Anglas,  in  a  written  appeal  ^  to  the  Con- 
vention and  the  Committee  of  Instruction,  dated  the 
25th  of  Pluviose  (Feb.  13),  asked  that 

"  plays  should  be  made  the  vehicle  of  public  ap- 
preciation, and  that  through  them  the  prestige  of 
the  great  men  who  had  fallen  should  be  emphasized, 
by  showing  their  great  deeds,  which  ought  to  be 
preserved  for  posterity.  ...  In  considering  the 
theater  as  one  of  the  properest  instruments  for  fur- 
thering the  development  of  society  and  rendering 
men  more  virtuous  and  more  enlightened,  you  will, 
I  am  sure,  not  allow  it  to  become  solely  an  ob- 
ject of  financial  speculation,  but  make  it  a  national 
enterprise.    .    .    .   Let  this  be  one  of  the  principal 

'  Quelques  idees  sur  les  arts,  sur  la  necessite  de  les  encou- 
rager,  sur  les  institutions  qui  peuvent  en  assurer  le  perfec- 
tionnement  et  sur  divers  etahlissements  necessaires  a  I'en- 
seignement  public,  addressees  a  la  Convention  nationale  ct  an 
Comite  d' instruction  publique,  par  Boissy  d'Anglas,  depute  du 
departement  de  I'Ardeche. 


74  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

aims  of  your  public  service.  ...  In  this  way  you 
will  be  opening  up  a  path  along  which  the  human 
mind  can  pursue  its  way  to  even  greater  heights  than 
heretofore  .  .  .  and  offer  the  people  an  ever  new 
source  of  instruction  and  pleasure,  and  form  the 
national  character  as  you  wish." 

All  these  ideas  for  a  national  theater  which  should 
be  a  source  of  instruction  were  combined  on  the  20th 
of  Ventose,  Year  II  (March  10,  1794)  in  a  decree 
of  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety,  which  is  the 
true  constitution  and  basis  of  the  People's  Theater. 

The  Committee,  which  was  that  day  composed 
of  Saint-Just,  Couthon,  Carnot,  Barere,  Prieur, 
Lindet,  and  Collot  d'Herbois,  decreed  that  the  old 
Theatre-Frangais  shall  be  solely  devoted  to  perform- 
ances given  by  and  for  the  people  at  certain  times 
every  month.  The  building  shall  bear  the  folloiv- 
ing  inscription  on  its  fagade:  PEOPLE'S  THE- 
ATER. The  troupes  of  actors  already  established 
in  the  various  theaters  of  Paris  shall  be  requisitioned 
in  turn  for  performances  to  be  given  three  times 
each  decade.  The  repertory  of  plays  to  be  per- 
formed at  the  People's  Theater  must  be  submitted 
to  and  passed  by  the  Committee.  Each  munici- 
pality is  commanded  to  organize  productions  zvhich 
are  to  be  given  free  to  the  people  every  ten  years." 

The  Committee  of  Public  Safety  realized  that  the 
transformation  of  the  old  Theatre-Frangais  for  the 
purpose  of  giving  popular  performances  was  only 
temporary.  The  founders  of  the  People's  Theater 
were  right  in  thinking  that  there  were  obstacles, 


PRECURSORS  OF  THE  THEATER       75 

probably  unsurmountable,  to  the  establishment  of  a 
new  form  of  dramatic  art  in  an  old  building,  whose 
material  form,  audiences,  and  traditions  would 
always  stand  in  the  way  of  the  development  of  a 
new  art.  And  so  they  endeavored  to  find  a  new 
architectural  structure. 

On  the  5th  of  Floreal,  Year  II  (April  24,  1794), 
the  Committee  of  Public  Safety  "  called  upon  the 
artists  of  the  Republic  to  assist  in  turning  the  Opera 
(now  the  Theatre  de  la  Porte  Saint-Martin)  into  a 
covered  arena,  where  the  triumphs  of  the  Republic 
and  national  festivals  might  be  held  " ;  and  on  the 
25th  of  Floreal  (May  14)  Robespierre,  Billaud, 
Prieur,  Barere,  and  Collot  signed  a  decree  for  the 
conversion  of  the  Place  de  la  Revolution  (now  the 
Place  de  la  Concorde)  "  into  a  circus,  open  on  all 
sides  and  intended  to  be  used  for  the  national 
festivals." 

The  mere  founding  of  the  People's  Theater  was 
not  sufficient:  it  had  to  have  plays.  The  Commit- 
tee, composed  of  Robespierre,  Couthon,  Carnot,  Bil- 
laud, Lindet,  Prieur,  Barere,  and  Collot,  appealed  to 
the  poets  on  the  27th  of  Floreal  to  "  celebrate  the 
principal  events  of  the  Revolution  and  compose  re- 
publican plays."  But  the  Committee  was  too  busy 
with  other  things — the  struggle  against  the  counter- 
revolution, and  with  the  kings — to  be  able  to  devote 
its  undivided  attention  to  "  the  regeneration  of  dra- 
matic art."  It  gave  over  this  difficult  task  to  the 
Committee  of  Public  Instruction  on  the  i8th  of 
Prairial  (June  6,  1794). 


76  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

The  Commission,  of  which  the  energetic  and  in- 
telligent Joseph  Payan  was  the  soul,  set  to  work  in 
earnest.  On  the  5th  of  Messidor  (June  23,  1794) 
it  published  a  circular  under  the  title  of  Spectacles, 
addressed  to  the  directors  and  managers  of  plays, 
the  municipal  authorities,  dramatists,  etc.  In  this 
pamphlet,  written  in  a  declamatory  and  incorrect 
style,  but  burning  with  generous  ambition,  Payan 
declared  war  not  only  on  the  speculation  indulged 
in  by  authors  and  directors,  and  on  the  scandalous 
immorality  and  huge  profits  of  theatrical  enterprise, 
but  against  the  sluggish  spirit  of  the  times,  and  the 
servile  condition  of  art,     "  The  theaters  are  still 

'^encumbered  with  the  rubbish  of  the  old  regime, 

feeble  copies  of  the  masters,  wherein  art  and  taste 

jure  set  at  naught,  of  ideas  and  interests  which  are 

I  nothing  to  us,  and  of  customs  and  manners  foreign 

;  to  us.     We  must  sweep  this  chaotic  mass  out  of  our 

I  theaters.  .  .  .  We  must  clear  the  stage,  and  allow 
reason  to  enter  and  speak  the  language  of  liberty, 
throw  flowers  on  the  graves  of  martyrs,  sing  of 

'  heroism  and  virtue,  and  inspire  love  of  law  and  the 
■Patrie."  The  Commission  appealed  to  all  enlight- 
ened men:  artists,  directors,  and  patriotic  writers. 
"  Think  of  the  tremendous  moral  influence  to  be 
exerted  by  plays.  We  must  erect  a  great  public 
school  wherein  taste  and  virtue  shall  be  equally  re- 
spected." This  was  not  an  attempt,  as  has  been 
said,  to  sacrifice  art  to  politics.  On  the  contrary, 
Payan,  in  the  name  of  the  Commission,  vigorously 
protested  against  the  mutilations  made  in  the  texts 


PRECURSORS  OF  THE  THEATER        77 

of  certain  plays  by  the  Hebertistes,  saying  that  the 
"  first  laws  to  be  respected  in  plays  are  the  laws  of 
good  taste  and  good  sense."  The  grandeur  of  his 
conception  of  a  popular  art  is  even  more  strikingly 
evident  in  a  decree  of  the  nth  of  Messidor,  Year 
II  (June  29,  1794),  wherein  he  pitilessly  criticizes 
not  the  anti-republican  plays,  but  the  republican 
plays  written  for  the  Festival  to  the  Supreme  Being, 
which  degraded  the  subject  by  their  mediocrity. 

"  There  are  many  dramatists  on  the  alert  to 
detect  the  current  of  the  fashion;  they  know  the 
costumes  and  the  colors  of  the  season;  they  know 
to  the  day  when  to  put  on  one's  red  bonnet,  and 
when  to  take  it  off.  Their  genius  has  laid  siege  to 
and  conquered  a  whole  city,  while  our  brave  Repub- 
licans have  barely  opened  the  breach,  .  .  .  Hence 
the  corruption  of  taste  and  the  degeneration  of  art. 
While  genius  meditates  and  casts  her  conceptions 
into  bronze,  mediocrity,  cowering  beneath  the  egis 
of  liberty,  bears  off  the  laurels  of  the  moment,  and 
gathers  without  an  effort  the  flowers  of  an  ephem- 
eral success.  .  .  .  Let  us  inspire  our  young  literary 
men  with  the  idea  that  the  road  to  immortality  is 
a  difficult  one,  and  that  if  they  wish  to  offer  the 
French  people  works  as  imperishable  as  their  glory, 
they  must  avoid  mere  barren  profusion  and  un- 
merited success,  for  these  kill  talent  and  cause 
genius  to  dissipate  itself  with  a  few  fugitive  sparks 
shot  into  a  night  of  smoke;  hasty  attempts  to  snatch 
the  wreath  of  victory,  made  according  to  a  fixed 
formula,  can  only  result  in  the  degradation  of  the 


78  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

work  and  the  worker.  The  Commission  deeply 
regrets  that  it  is  forced  to  point  out  the  first  steps 
along  the  path  of  good  taste  and  true  beauty  by 
means  of  severe  lessons,  but  since  it  assumes  the 
greatest  interest  in  the  arts,  the  regeneration  of 
which  is  in  its  hands  ...  it  feels  it  is  responsible 
to  the  nation,  to  literature,  to  itself,  to  the  poet,  the 
historian,  the  genius,  and  should  be  guilty  of  gross 
neglect  should  it  fail  to  direct  the  energies  of 
genius.  Let  the  young  author,  therefore,  fearlessly 
measure  the  whole  extent  of  the  field  before  him 
...  he  must  invariably  avoid  the  line  of  least 
resistance  in  thinking,  and  shun  mediocrity  in  every 
form.  The  writer  who  instead  of  lessons  offers 
commonplaces;  empty  action  instead  of  interest; 
caricatures  instead  of  characters,  is  of  no  use  to 
literature,  to  the  moral  welfare,  and  to  the  State: 
Plato  would  have  banished  him  from  his  Republic." 
The  superb  spirit  of  this  passage  shows  into  what 
hands  art  was  then  confided.  Unfortunately  the 
writers  were  not  equal  to  the  task :  Payan  himself 
was  unable  to  write  the  work  he  announced  in  his 
decree  of  the  29th  of  June,  on  the  regeneration  of 
the  theater.  He  was  swept  away  on  the  loth  of 
Thermidor  (July  28th)  in  the  whirlwind  which 
took  with  it,  besides  Robespierre  and  Saint-Just,  the 
very  genius  of  the  Revolution.  It  is  regrettable  to 
have  to  confess  that  the  artists  of  the  time,  espe- 
cially the  writers,  could  in  no  way  be  compared  with 
the  Revolutionary  chiefs.  This  was  especially  true 
of  the  writers,  for  painting  at  least  had  its  David, 


PRECURSORS  OF  THE  THEATER       79 

and  music  Mehul,  Lesueur,  Gossec,  Cherubini — ^and 
the  Marseillaise.  This  mediocrity  grieved  the  Com- 
mittee, and  called  forth  bitter  words  from  Robes- 
pierre and  Saint-Just.  "  Men  of  letters  in  gen- 
eral," said  Robespierre  in  his  speech  of  the  i8th  of 
Floreal  (May  7,  1794),  "have  dishonored  them- 
selves in  this  Revolution,  and  to  the  everlasting 
shame  of  their  minds  the  people's  reason  has  taken 
the  first  place."  As  has  been  shown  by  Eugene 
Maron  ^  and  Eugene  Despois,'  the  year  1793  marl^s 
the  beginning  of  the  extraordinary  developments  of^ 
the  vaudeville. 

But  I  understand :  all  the  heroism  of  the  nation 
had  been  flung  into  the  battlefield,  the  assembly,  and 
„the  i"iot.  Who  would  have  been  such  a  dilettante 
_as  to  write  while  the  others  were  fighting  ?  Cowards 
were  the  only  ones  who  cultivated  the  arts.  But 
is  it  not  too  bad  to  think  that  that  sublime  tempest 
passed  away  without  leaving  the  trace  of  a  work 
which  shall  live  through  the  centuries? 

Fifty  years  later  one  man  sounded  the  echo  of 
those  first  blasts.  Michelet,  who  has  transmitted 
to  us  not  only  the  story  of  those  heroic  times,  but 
the  very  soul,  for  it  was  in  him;  Michelet,  who 
wrote  the  history  of  the  Revolution  like  a  man  who 
had  really  lived  through  it,  carries  on,  as  it  were 
instinctively,  the  tradition  of  the  People's  Theater. 
He  expounded  his  ideas  to  his  students  with  his 
customary  eloquence: 

'  Histoire  littiraire  de  la  Convention. 
'  Le  Vandalisme  revolutionnaire. 


8o  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 


it 


You  must  all  march  at  the  head  of  the  people. 
Give  them  that  glorious  instruction  which  was  the 
whole  education  of  the  cities  of  antiquity :  a  theater 
truly  of  the  people.  On  the  stage  of  that  theater 
give  them  their  own  legends,  and  show  them 
their  own  deeds.  Nourish  the  people  with  the 
people.  .  .  .  The  theater  is  the  most  potent  agent 
in  education  and  goes  far  to  establish  closer  rela- 
tions between  man  and  man ;  it  is,  I  think,  the  fairest 
hope  of  our  national  regeneration.  I  mean  a  the- 
ater universally  of  the  people,  echoing  every  thought 
of  the  people,  and  extending  to  every  hamlet.  .  .  . 
Before  I  die  I  wish  to  see  a  spirit  of  national  fra- 
ternity in  the  theater  ...  a  drama  simple  and 
vigorous  played  throughout  the  countryside,  where 
the  energy  of  talent,  the  creative  power  which  lies 
in  the  heart,  and  the  youthful  imagination  of  an 
entirely  new  people  shall  do  away  with  mere  physi- 
cal adjuncts,  sumptuous  stage-settings  and  costumes, 
without  which  the  feeble  dramatists  of  this  outworn 
age  cannot  take  a  step.  .  .  .  What  is  the  theater  ? 
It  means  the  resigning  of  oneself,  the  abdication  of 
egotism  and  aggrandizement  in  order  to  assume  a 
better  role.  Ah,  how  much  we  need  this!  .  .  . 
Come,  I  beg  you,  come  and  find  your  souls 
again  in  the  people's  theater,  in  the  people  them- 
selves." ^ 

Michelet  suggested  certain  subjects  from  our  na- 
tional epic  literature  which  lent  themselves  to  treat- 
ment in   people's  plays:   Jeanne   d'Arc,   La   Tour 

'Michelet,  L'Etudiant  (lecture-course  of  1847-48). 


PRECURSORS  OF  THE  THEATER       8i 

d'Auvergne,  Aitsterlitz;  above  all,  Les  Miracles  de 
la  Revolution. 

It  was  through  Michelet  that  the  artistic  ideals 
of  the  Revolution  and  the  thinkers  of  the  eighteenth 
century  have  come  down  to  those  of  us  who  are 
endeavoring  to  found  a  People's  Theater. 

But  other  countries  have  anticipated  our  efforts. 
In  1889  a  V olkstheater  was  established  in  Vienna;  it 
opened  with  Anzengruber's  Der  Fleck  auf  der  Ehr! 
In  1894  Kerr  Loewenfeld  opened  the  Schiller-The- 
ater in  Berlin.  A  year  later  it  had  six  thousand 
subscribers.  A  company  of  thirty  actors  played  a 
repertory  of  ancient  and  modern  plays:  from  Cal- 
deron  and  Shakespeare  to  Ibsen,  Dumas  fils,  and  the 
^contemporaries.  The  theater  was  so  successful  that 
two  other  Schiller-Theaters  were  established  in  the 
same  city.^ 

The  art  department  of  the  Maison  du  Peuple  of 
Brussels,  which,  since  1892  had  offered  literary  and 
musical  entertainments,  joined  hands  in  1897  with 
the  Toekomst  (The  Future),  a  Flemish  choral  and 
dramatic  society,  founded  in  1883,  and  instituted  a 
series  of  performances  in  the  beautiful  festival  hall 
of  the  Maison  du  Peuple,  which  holds  three  thou- 
sand people.^  The  plays  produced  were:  The 
Weavers  of  Hauptmann,  The  Power  of  Darkness 
of   Tolstoy,   An  Enemy  of  the  People   and   The 

*  For  the  Schiller-Theater  see  p.  102,  note  i,  and  the  articles 
of  Jean  Vignaud :  Un  theatre  populairc  a  Berlin  in  the  Revue 
d'art  dramatiquc  (Oct.  5,  1899),  and  of  Adrien  Bernheim  in 
Le  Temps  (1902). 

'  On  the  performances  at  the  Maison  du  Peuple  of  Brus- 


82  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

Master  Builder  of  Ibsen,  Beyond  Human  Power  by 
Bjornson,  Dawn  by  Verhaeren^  Philaster,  translated 
from  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  by  Georges  Eek- 
houd,  etc.  At  Ghent,  the  Vooruit  offered  classical 
concerts  on  Mardi  gras  and  in  1897  produced  Tann- 
hduser,  as  a  protest  against  the  orgies  of  the  car- 
nival. At  Liege,  a  miner  named  Alphonse  Bechon 
wrote  Le  Bribeu  socialiste  ou  les  Martyrs  de  I'Ideie, 
a  democratic  melodrama,  "  en  treus  akes  et  in 
apotheose,"  written  in  the  dialect  of  the  section. 
This  was  performed  in  1902  at  the  Mais  on  du 
Peuple  de  Flemalle  Grande. 

Switzerland  has  never  abandoned  the  tra- 
dition of  the  great  people's   spectacles.^     During 

sels,  see  Jules  Destree,  Les  Preoccupations  intellectuelles, 
esthetiques  et  morales  dans  le  parti  ouvricr  beige.  (In  the 
Mouvement  Socialiste,  Sept.  i  and  15,  1902.) 

'As  early  as  1545  we  find  a  Guillaume  Tell  performed  at 
Zurich.  The  movement  for  people's  productions  which  was 
so  strong  at  Bale,  Berne,  and  Zurich  during  the  sixteenth 
century,  was  practically  abandoned  during  the  seventeenth 
and  eighteenth  centuries,  but  with  Schiller's  IVilhelm  Tell 
it  was  revived  and  pursued  with  the  greatest  enthusiasm. 
Herr  Stocker's  book,  Das  Volks-theater  in  der  Schweiz 
(1893),  is  a  detailed  study  of  this  movement,  which  inspired 
the  establishment  of  many  Dramatische  Vereine  in  the  very 
smallest  towns. — "The  people's  theater  is  one  of  the  most 
vital  and  original  traditions  of  Swiss  art,"  writes  M.  Rene 
Morax.  "  Switzerland  indeed  never  had  any  other  theater. 
Neither  national  crises  nor  the  nefarious  blight  of  the  Con- 
sistories could  keep  the  Swiss  from  taking  pleasure  in  these 
great  spectacles,  which  included  the  plays  of  Ruff,  the  com- 
panion of  Zwingli,  the  author  of  the  first  William  Tell  play 
from  the  beautiful  tragedy  of  Theodore  de  Beze,  to  the 
Charles  the  Bold  of  Arnold  Ott."  {Journal  de  Geneve,  May 
5  and  8,  1907.) 


PRECURSORS  OF  THE  THEATER       83 

the   past   few   years  these   have  been   successfully 
revived/ 

In  France,  the  first  man  who  was  able  to  realize 
the  ideals  of  a  People's  Theater  was  Maurice  Pot- 
techer.  On  September  22,  1892,  the  one-hundredth 
anniversary  of  the  foundation  of  the  Republic,  he 
produced  a  patois  translation  of  Le  Medecin  malgre 
lui  at  Bussang,  a  little  village  in  the  Vosges.  It 
was  a  great  success.  Three  years  later,  on  Sep- 
tember 2,  1895,  he  inaugurated  his  People's  Theater 
— Le  Theatre  du  Pciiple — at  Bussang  with  a  play 
of  his  own :  Le  Diahle  marchant  de  goutte.  The 
stage,  which  was  fifteen  meters  wide,  was  con- 
structed against  the  side  of  a  mountain,  at  the  end 
of  a  field.  Two  thousand  people  were  present  at 
the  first  performance.  Every  year  the  Bussang 
theater  offers  two  "  dramatic  days,"  in  August  and 
September;  admission  is  charged  on  one  of  the  days, 
when  a  new  play  is  performed;  there  is  no  admission 
for  the  other,  when  the  play  of  the  preceding  year 
may  be  witnessed.  The  theater  is  assured  a  reper- 
tory, for  every  year  M.  Pottecher  writes  a  new  play, 
sometimes  two;  M.  Pottecher  also  acts,  together 
with  his  family,  and  a  company  of  workingmen 
and  tradespeople  from  the  village.  His  talent, 
his    artistic    conscience,    his    marvelous    persever- 

'  I  do  not  here  refer  to  the  traditional  performances,  like 
the  Oberammergau  Passion  Play,  and  the  Maggi  (May  fes- 
tivals) of  Tuscany,  which  have  continued  without  interrup- 
tion from  the  fifteenth,  and  perhaps  even  the  fourteenth 
century,  to  our  own  days.  These  are  written  and  played  by 
the  peasants  around  Pisa,  Lucca,  Pistoia,  and  Siena. 


84  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

ance,  have  brought  him  the  success  he  deserves, 
and  will  reserve  for  him  a  place  of  honor  in  his- 
tory as  the  founder  of  the  first  People's  Theater  in 
France. 

At  about  the  same  time  Louis  Lumet  went  from 
neighborhood  to  neighborhood  in  Paris  with  his 
Theatre  civiqiie,^  whose  function  it  was  to  offer 
artistic  recitations  and  selections  from  plays,  rather 
than  integral  performances. 

In  Poitou,  the  happy  success  of  a  topical  play, 
a  pastoral  by  M.  Pierre  Corneille,  performed  before 
a  few  peasants,  led  the  author  to  found  a  People's 
Theater  at  La  Mothe-Saint-Heraye.  He  organized 
this  theatre  in  September,  1897,  and  made  his  debut 
with  La  Legende  de  Chamhrille.  In  September, 
1898,  he  produced  Erinna,  pretresse  d'Hesiis,  a  trag- 
edy of  classical  model. 

M.  Le  Goffic  and  M.  Le  Braz  organized  at  Plou- 
jean  in  Brittany  (August,  1898)  a  production  of 
an  old  sixteenth  century  mystery,  La  Vie  de  Saint- 
Gwenole. 

Shortly  after,  M.  Emile  Loux-Parassac  founded 
a  Theatre  dcs  Alpes  at  Grenoble,  where  he  produced 
a  play  dealing  with  the  life  of  the  people  of  Val- 
louise.  He  introduced  old  airs,  romances,  and 
Alpine  dances,  as  well  as  the  Bacchu-Ber,  or  sword 
dance. 

And  finally,  the  various  performances  at  Nimes, 

*This  was  founded  on  July  3,  1897,  by  the  little  Enclos 
group :  Louis  Lumet,  Charles-Louis  Philippe,  J.-G.  Prod'- 
homme,  and  Charles  Max. 


PRECURSORS  OF  THE  THEATER       85 

Beziers,  and  Orange,^  although  they  are  almost 
ruined  by  the  combined  Provengal  and  Parisian 
influences,  and  fluctuating  in  their  choice  of  plays 
from  Les  Prccieuscs  ridicules  to  Le  Chalet  of 
Adolphe  Adam,  from  the  Phedre  of  Racine  to  the 
Iphigenie  of  Moreas,  the  (Edipus  of  Sophocles  to 
that  of  Peladan — these  performances  none  the  less 
serve  the  cause  of  the  People's  Theater  in  its  mani- 

*  The  Roman  theater  at  Orange  was  reopened  in  1869,  I 
think,  with  the  singing  of  a  cantata,  Les  Triomphateurs,  of 
Antony-Real,  and  the  Joseph  of  Mehul.  Adam's  Le  Chalet 
was  given  in  1874;  Les  Precieuses  ridicules  in  1886;  then  fol- 
lowed a  series  of  classic  or  pseudo-classic  tragedies :  (Edipus, 
Antigone,  Alcestis,  The  Phccnician  Women,  Athalie,  Phedre, 
Horace;  and  the  Orphee  and  Iphigenie  en  Tauride  of  Gluck. 
Lately  there  were  three  series  of  productions  within  a  few 
weeks,  and  the  variety  of  programs  was  disconcerting.  In 
1903  alone  there  were  performances  of  La  Legende  du  coeur 
by  Jean  Aicard,  CEdipe  et  le  Sphinx,  by  Josephin  Peladan, 
Citharis  by  Alexis  Mouzin,  Iphigenie  by  Jean  Moreas ;  Horace, 
Phedre,  The  Phoenician  Women,  Orphee,  etc.  In  place  of 
these  antique  imitations  and  absurd  transpositions  of  parlor 
tragedies,  I  should  like  to  see  genuine  Provengal  plays,  like 
Mistral's  La  Reinc  Jeanne. — See  Leopold  Lacour's  articles, 
Au  Theatre  d'Orange  and  Le  Present  et  I'avcnir  (in  the  Revue 
de  Paris,  Sept.  i,  1903),  and  Les  Theatres  en  plein  air  (in 
L'Art  du  Theatre,  Oct.,  1903). 

The  performances  in  the  arena  constructed  by  M.  Castel- 
bon  de  Beauxhostes  at  Beziers  have  up  to  the  present  been 
exclusively  musical ;  at  first  they  were  devoted  to  the  music 
of  M.  Saint-Saens  (Dejanire  and  Parysatis)  with  few  excep- 
tions (such  as  the  Prometheus,  music  by  M.  Gabriel  Faure, 
and  libretto  by  MM.  Jean  Lorrain  and  Ferdinand  Herold). 
The  more  recent  productions,  at  Nimes,  have  not  been  ?o 
distinctly  alive.  M.  Mounet-Sully  acted  in  (Edipus  there, 
which  was  preceded  by  a  prologue  from  the  pen  of  M. 
Maurice  Magre. 


86  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

fold  attempts.^  There  are  other  experiments:  at 
Nancy  and  at  Lille;  in  Flanders,  in  Limousin  and 
Gascony,  in  Provence,  in  the  Basque  country;  and 
at  the  People's  Universities — the  Emancipation  of 
the  fifteenth  arrondissement  of  Paris  produced  Jean 
Hugues'  ^  La  Greve  in  1900.  Especially  significant 
is  the  work  of  the  Cooperation  des  idees  of  the  Fau- 
bourg Saint-Antoine,  founded  in  1886  by  working- 
men.^  M.  Deherme,  the  true  founder  of  the 
People's  Universities,  established  in  connection  with 
this  movement  an  eclectic  theater  in  1899. 

The  fault  with  all  these  attempts  was  that  they 
were  isolated,  disconnected,  without  cohesion,  with- 
out sufficient  publicity  and  the  strength  to  combat 
the  traditional  routine  of  actors  and  the  indifference 
of  the  public.  In  March,  1899,  a  small  group  of 
young  writers  on  the  staff  of  the  Revue  d'art  dra- 
matique  planned  to  organize  at  the  Exposition  of 
1900  an  international  congress  for  the  purpose  of 

^  See  La  Revue  universelle,  July  6,  igor. 

'  Cahiers  de  la  Quincaine,  6th  cahier  of  the  3d  series. 

'  "  A  few  workingmen,  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
very  brief  education  given  to  their  children  was  far  from 
sufficient  and  therefore  somewhat  dangerous,  and  wishing  to 
avoid  the  oppression  of  the  electoral  organizations — where 
much  is  said  and  little  thought — came  together  with  their 
books  and  their  ideas,  and  agreed  to  meet  regularly  one  night 
a  week  for  the  purpose  of  discussion.  They  first  met  in  the 
back  part  of  a  wine  merchant's  shop,  in  1886,  Rue  des  Bou- 
lets."  (Henri  Dargel :  Le  Theatre  du  peuple  a  la  Cooperation 
des  idees,  in  La  Revue  d'art  dramatique,  April,  1903.)  Such 
was  the  beginning  of  the  Cooperation  des  idees,  the  name  of 
which  was  taken  from  a  paper  started  by  M.  Deherme  in 
1894. 


PRECURSORS  OF  THE  THEATER       87 

uniting  the  efforts  of  the  world  toward  a  true 
democracy  of  art.  This  convention  was  to  have 
been  preceded  by  a  questionnaire  sent  to  all  who 
took  any  interest  in  the  question,  and  asking  the 
directors  of  all  people's  theaters  for  an  account  of 
their  work  and  suggestions  resulting  from  their 
experience.  This  would  have  afforded  ample  ma- 
terial for  discussion  at  the  convention.  But  for 
rea'sons  independent  of  the  wishes  of  these  writers, 
the  project,  which  was  indeed  too  ambitious,  had  to 
be  abandoned.  Six  months  later,  however,  the  plan 
was  revived,  only  the  field  was  more  restricted,  and 
the  subject  confined  to  the  People's  Theater  of 
Paris. 

On  the  5th  of  November,  1899,  the  Revue  d'art 
dramatique  published  an  open  letter  to  the  Minister 
of  Public  Instruction  asking  him  to  lend  his  aid  for 
the  establishment  of  a  People's  Theater  in  Paris. 
This  aid  was  to  have  taken  the  form  of  sending  a 
delegate  to  foreign  countries, — to  Berlin,  in  particu- 
lar— to  study  the  organization  of  the  existing  peo- 
ple's theaters.  At  the  same  time  the  Revue  offered 
a  prize  of  five  hundred  francs  to  the  person  who 
contributed  the  best  plan  for  a  people's  theater. 
The  jury  consisted  of  Henry  Bauer,  Lucien  Bes- 
nard,  Maurice  Bouchor,  Georges  Bourdon,  Lucien 
Descaves,  Robert  de  Flers,  Anatole  France,  Gus- 
tave  Geffroy,  Jean  Jullien,  Louis  Lumet,  Octave 
Mirbeau,  Maurice  Pottecher,  Romain  Holland, 
Camille  de  Sainte-Croix,  Edouard  Schure,  Gabriel 
Trarieux,   Jean   Vignaud,   and   Emile   Zola.     The 


88  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

Committee  met  a  dozen  times  in  the  offices  of  the 
Revue  d'art  dramatique,  between  November,  1899, 
and  February,  1900.  A  delegation  was  sent  to 
Minister  Leygues.  This  gentleman  recognized  the 
importance  of  a  People's  Theater  in  Paris,  but  the 
only  aid  he  offered  was  that  of  words;  while  he 
bent  every  effort  to  keep  the  projects  of  the  People's 
Theater  out  of  the  hands  of  so  advanced  a  party  as 
the  writers  on  the  Revue  d'art  dramatique.  They 
had  asked  for  a  delegate  to  study  people's  theaters 
abroad;  the  Minister  appointed  M.  Adrien  Bern- 
heim.  M.  Bernheim  was  present  at  a  meeting  of 
the  Committee  in  December,  1899,  but  agreement 
was  impossible.  M.  Bernheim  left  for  Berlin,  and 
the  Committee  proceeded  with  its  task.  Much 
more  solidarity  in  the  Committee  would  have  been 
necessary  to  struggle  successfully  against  the  med- 
dling of  the  State;  and  the  Committee  disbanded 
at  the  end  of  three  months,  after  having  reported 
on  the  prize  contest.  Twenty  manuscripts  had  been 
submitted,  out  of  which  four  or  five  were  of  interest, 
while  that  of  Eugene  Morel  was  remarkable.  Three 
prizes  were  awarded.  Morel's  work  was  published 
in  December,  1900,^  in  the  Revue  d'art  dramatique. 
To  this  day  it  remains  the  most  original  plan  of  its 
kind  so  far  as  the  physical  conditions  are  concerned. 
To  the  same  review,  Romain  Rolland  contributed  a 
study  on  the  moral  conditions  and  repertory  of  the 
People's   Theater,   and  on  the   30th  of   December 

^  Eugene  Morel,  Projet  de  Fheatres  populaires  vpublished 
by  the  Revue  d'art  dramatique) . 


PRECURSORS  OF  THE  THEATER       89 

he  gave  at  Louis  Lumet's  Theatre  civique,  .under  the 
auspices  of  the  Noiivcau  Theatre,  a  people's  per- 
formance of  Danton,  for  the  benefit  of  the  tulle- 
making  strikers.  The  play  was  preceded  by  an  ad- 
dress from  Jaures.  A  year  later,  on  the  21st  of 
March,  1902,  the  author  of  Danton  produced  at  the 
Theatre  de  la  Renaissance-Gemier,  Le  14  Juillet,  a 
"  people's  play."  This  was  inspired  by  the  artistic 
and  civic  ideals  of  the  men  of  the  Committee  of 
Public  Safety.  "  To  revive  the  forces  of  the  Revo- 
lution," the  preface  stated,  "  to  awaken  once  more 
the  heroism  and  the  faith  of  the  nation  when  it  was 
in  the  midst  of  the  republican  struggle,  in  order  that 
the  work  interrupted  in  1794  might  be  taken  up  and 
completed  by  a  people  of  greater  maturity  and  more 
conscious  of  its  destiny :  such  is  our  ideal." 

The  tentatives  of  the  Revue  d'art  dramatique 
found  an  echo  in  the  Chamber  in  M.  Couyba's 
report  on  the  Fine  Arts  budget  for  1902,  and  in 
his  speech  of  the  5th  of  March  during  the  same 
year.  But  it  was  easy  to  see  how  Minister  Leygues 
and  his  clever  delegate,  M.  Bernheim,  were  labor- 
ing to  direct  the  forces  of  democratic  art  into  the 
coffers  of  the  State.  The  plan  was  classic — like 
their  repertory.  But  in  spite  of  their  political  game, 
which  was  upheld  by  the  bourgeois  press,  I  very 
much  doubt  whether  they  will  have  the  last  word 
against  the  irresistible  power  of  a  movement  which 
increases  in  proportion  as  it  is  opposed.  The  people 
can  no  longer  be  deceived.  No  one  who  is  really 
concerned  about  the  people's  art  will  allow  himself 


90  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

to  be  duped  by  any  such  trick;  and  their  determina- 
tion to  establish  a  true  People's  Theater  at  Paris  is 
not  in  the  least  shaken/ 

But  meantime,  while  we  wait,  with  fewer  illusions 
perhaps  and  more  experience,  for  them  to  take  up 
the  temporarily  interrupted  projects,  the  People's 
Theater  slowly  develops,  here  and  there.  Among 
the  more  or  less  happy  experiments  undertaken  in 
this  period  of  reaction,  we  may  point  to  the 
Cooperation  des  idees,  the  Theatre  populaire  of 
Belleville,  and  the  Theatre  du  Peuple  of  M. 
Beaulieu. 

On  December  3,  1899,  the  People's  Theater  of 
the  Cooperation  des  idees  opened  its  doors  at 
number  157  Faubourg  Saint-Antoine.  Since  that 
time  there  has  been  a  series  of  almost  continuous 
performances.      Unfortunately   the    hall    was   too 

^  I  need  only  to  recall  the  press  campaign  carried  on  for 
many  years  by  Camille  de  Sainte-Croix,  Lucien  Descaves, 
Gustave  Geffroy,  Jean  JuUien,  Octave  Mirbeau,  and  the 
studies  and  questionnaire  of  Georges  Bourdon  in  the  Revue 
bleue.  Ever  since  the  stormy  performances  of  Therniidor  at 
the  Comedie-Fmngaise  in  1890,  M.  Camille  de  Sainte-Croix 
has  not  ceased  his  demands  for  a  republican  theater  on  be- 
half of  the  republican  people  of  Paris.  He  saw  that  the 
people  were  excluded  from  the  State  theaters  because  of  the 
reactionary  spirit  of  the  so-called  upper  classes.  Since  1900 
he  has  labored  to  secure  a  State  appropriation  for  the  estab- 
lishment of  four  large  people's  theaters,  devoted  to  dramatic 
and  lyric,  classic  and  modern  productions,  one  for  each  of  the 
outlying  districts  of  the  city.  He  submitted  a  report  of  his 
inquiries  to  the  Chamber  and  Municipal  Council.  The  State 
at  once  appeared  interested — but  this  was  merely  in  order  to 
suppress  it  the  more  effectively. 


PRECURSORS  OF  THE  THEATER       91 

small — seating  as  it  did  only  from  three  to  four 
hundred  people — and  inconvenient.  The  strange 
mixture  of  all  sorts  of  plays  is  also  open  to  criti- 
cism. Among  the  dramatists  represented  were 
Corneille,  Racine,  Moliere,  Marivaux,  Regnard, 
Beaumarchais,  Musset,  Ponsard,  Hugo,  and  Augier. 
Courteline  is  a  favorite,  together  with  Tristan  Ber- 
nard, Labiche,  and  Grenet-Dancourt.  Rostand  and 
Pailleron  are  also  performed,  and  even  the  lightest 
comedies  of  Capus,  Meilhac,  Porto-Riche,  Veber, 
and  Francis  de  Croisset.  Among  the  more  truly 
popular  plays  may  be  mentioned  Maurice  Pot- 
techer's  Liberie,  which  was  seen  at  the  opening  per- 
formance; Les  Matwais  hergers,  L' Epidemic,  and 
Le  Portefeuille  of  Mirbeau;  Brieux's  Blanchette, 
Descaves'  La  Cage  and  Tiers  Stat;  Franqois  de 
Curel's  La  Nouvelle  idole:  a  number  of  plays  of 
Jean  Jullien  (among  them  Le  Mattre),  Ancey,  Mar- 
solleau,  Trarieux,  Henri  Dargel;  Jean  Hugues'  La 
Greve,  and  Romain  Rolland's  Les  Loups.  I  have 
already  said  enough  of  such  indiscriminate  eclecti- 
cism to  enable  me  to  dispense  with  further  criti- 
cism. Even  for  the  cultured  few  this  is  sufficiently 
thin  fare,  but  it  may  prove  fatal  for  a  new  and 
ignorant  public :  they  risk  being  overwhelmed  by  so 
great  a  collection  of  contradictory  and  varied  styles 
and  sentiments.  But  we  cannot  deny  the  vitality 
and  good  spirit  behind  this  artistic  venture.  Dur- 
ing the  first  three  years  of  its  existence  the  little 
society  produced  about  two  hundred  plays,  of  which 
thirty  were  in  more  than  three  acts,  some  of  them 


92  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

entirely  new.  Nor  were  actors  wanting.  There 
were  sufficient  for  four  companies  at  one  time,  re- 
cruited from  among  the  audiences  of  the  Coopera- 
tion and  the  various  troupes  of  people's  actors  who 
lent  their  aid  from  time  to  time,  and  the  students 
from  the  Conservatoire  who  acted  Horace  with 
others  from  the  Comedie-Frangaise.  This  is  a  true 
People's  Theater  in  the  making;  all  that  lacked  was 
a  larger  and  more  accessible  hall. 

There  was  another  attempt  to  form  a  People's 
Theater,  The  Theatre  popiilaire  was  opened  in 
September,  1903,  in  the  very  heart  of  the  working- 
men's  quarter  in  Paris :  number  8,  Rue  de  Belleville. 

The  director  of  this  theater,  M.  E.  Berny,  is  an 
intelligent  and  daring  young  man,  part  of  whose 
inspiration  was  doubtless  derived  from  the  projects 
exposed  in  the  questionnaire  of  the  Revue  d'art 
dramatique.  The  hall,  which  was  provided  with  a 
single  gallery,  held  between  a  thousand  and  twelve 
hundred  spectators.  In  case  the  experiment  had 
succeeded,  it  was  planned  to  add  two  more  galleries, 
which  would  have  enabled  the  theater  to  accom- 
modate between  eighteen  hundred  and  two  thou- 
sand. The  prices  ranged  from  twenty-five  centimes 
to  one  franc  fifty.  A  subscription  plan  enabled  the 
theater  to  risk  a  few  rather  daring  experiments. 
These  subscriptions  were  fifteen  and  twenty  francs 
for  twenty  performances.  The  workingmen  were 
allowed  to  pay  for  the  subscriptions  in  weekly  instal- 
ments. Block  subscriptions  were  likewise  offered 
to  the  various   syndicates,   workingmen's   associa- 


PRECURSORS  OF  THE  THEATER       93 

tions,  and  People's  Universities.  The  theater  of- 
fered Thursday  matinees  to  students  at  greatly 
reduced  prices :  twenty-five  and  fifty  centimes.  The 
repertory  changed  from  week  to  week ;  it  was  eclec- 
tic, and  endeavored  to  supply  the  moral  needs,  a 
purpose  which  no  People's  Theater  worthy  the  name 
can  afford  to  lose  sight  of.  M.  Berny  did  not  hesi- 
tate to  go  to  the  classic  drama,  but  he  selected  his 
plays  with  discretion  and  taste,  for  he  tried  at  first 
not  to  break  away  too  abruptly  from  the  people's 
cherished  melodrama.  He  succeeded  gradually  in 
developing  the  taste  of  his  audiences  by  giving  them 
modern  plays,  forcing  them  to  think,  and  he  called 
upon  living  writers  for  plays  dealing  fearlessly  with 
present-day  problems. 

M.  Berny's  theater  opened  September  19,  1903, 
with  Courteline's  Monsieur  Badin,  Mirbeau's  Le 
Portefeidlle,  and  Romain  Rolland's  Danton.  Eu- 
gene Morel  delivered  an  introductory  address  on  the 
People's  Theater  before  an  audience  composed — ^at 
last! — entirely  of  the  people.^  M.  Berny  also  pro- 
duced Daudet's  Sapho,  Maupassant's  Bottle  de  Suif, 
Jean  Jullien's  Le  MaUre,  Emile  Fabre's  La  Rabouil- 
leuse,  and  Sardou's  Madame  Sans-Gene.  During 
his  first  season  he  produced  sixty-one  plays  (one 
hundred  and  fifty-five  acts  in  all),  with  ninety-three 
actors,  before  135,000  spectators.  His  theater, 
ideally  situated  in  the  center  of  the  workingmen's 
quarter,  where  the  inhabitants  are  wide-awake,  rap- 

*  Eugene  Morel,  Discours  pour  I'ouvcrture  d'un  theatre 
Populaire,  in  the  Revue  (i'art  dramatique,  Oct.  15,  1903. 


94  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

idly  gathered  to  itself  an  interested  and  exclusive 
clientele  of  people.     I  have  more  than  once  enjoyed 
the  opportunity  of  watching  these  audiences — espe- 
cially at  performances  of  Madame  Sans-Gene  and 
at  the  premiere  of  a  Jean  Jullien  play.     I  was  struck 
by  the  keen  interest  displayed  everywhere  about  me, 
often  taking  the  form  of  audible  expression,  where 
someone  would  agree  or  disagree  with  a  character. 
I  am  told  that  at  Danton  the  audience  roundly  be- 
rated   the    Revolutionary    figures    who    displeased 
them:  Vadier,  Fouquier-Tinville,  etc.     At  one  per- 
formance of  Madame  Sans-Gcne  I  saw  them  on 
the  point  of  hissing  Napoleon  when  he  reproached 
the  heroine  for  being  a  washerwoman.     They  al- 
ways took  sides,  they  were  incapable  of  remaining 
neutral.      This  Belleville   People's   Theater  has   a 
public  of  quick  intelligence.     I  watched  especially 
the  young  men  and  women,  people  with  splendid 
faces,  but  many  of  them  pale  and  pinched  and  worn 
with  the  fatigue  of  constant  labor.      Beneath  the 
transparent  and  mobile  faces  there  seemed  to  float 
great  waves  of  desire,  and  care,  and  changing  moods 
of  irony.     A  truly  intelligent  class — almost  too  in- 
telligent— with  a  touch  of  the  morbid:  the  people 
of  a  large  city.     And  this  public  might  in  a  few 
years'  time  become  the  ideal  audience:  intellectual 
and  passionate. 

A  few  weeks  after  the  opening  of  this  Theatre 
populaire,  M.  Henri  Beaulieu,  an  actor  of  talent, 
opened  on  November  14  a  second  Theatre  du 
Peuple,  in  the  Theatre  Moncey,  in  Clichy.     It  was 


PRECURSORS  OF  THE  THEATER       95 

an  advance-guard  experiment.  The  price  of  seats 
ranged  from  fifty  centimes  to  two  francs.  A  hun- 
dred free  tickets  were  to  be  distributed  on  certain 
days  of  the  week  among  the  poor  children  of  the 
primary  schools,  and  to  certain  workingmen's 
societies,  soldiers,  etc.  There  were  Thursday 
matinees  of  French  and  foreign  classics,  in  a  sub- 
scription series  costing  ten  francs  for  twelve  per- 
formances. A  subscription  series  for  the  premieres 
of  new  and  original  works  (of  which  at  least  six 
were  promised)  was  an  inducement  offered  to  the 
"  cultured  few."  The  other  arrangements  of  the 
theater  were  modeled  after  the  Berlin  Schiller- 
Theater:  the  payment  of  dividends  to  the  actors, 
suppression  of  the  ushers'  nuisance,  a  maximum 
charge  of  ten  centimes  for  the  checking  of  wraps, 
and  the  installation  of  a  permanent  exhibit  of  pic- 
tures, models,  photographs,  etc. 

It  was  M.  Beaulieu's  idea — by  no  means  the  least 
original  of  his  project — to  send  companies  from  his 
theater  into  the  Socialist  and  labor  centers  of 
the  provinces,  and  into  the  neighboring  countries: 
Lyons,  Saint-Etienne,  Lille,  Brussels,  Geneva,  etc. 

His  repertory  included  a  large  number  of  thesis- 
plays,  but  always  of  an  artistic  character.  Among 
others,  he  was  to  have  produced  Hauptmann's  The 
Weavers,  Heijermans'  The  Good  Hope,  Emile 
Fabre's  La  Vie  publique.  Octave  Mirbeau's  Les 
Maiivais  bergers,  Tolstoy's  The  Power  of  Darkness, 
Anatole  France's  Crainquchille,  Ajalbert's  drama- 
tization  of   the   Goncourts'   La  Fille   Elisa,   Ver- 


96  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

haeren's  Le  Cloitre,  Brieux'  La  Robe  rouge,  Suder- 
mann's  Honor,  Romain  Rolland's  Danton,  comedies 
of  Courteline,  etc.  The  theater  opened  with  Zola's 
Thercse  Raquin,  and  offered  as  the  first  sea- 
son's novelty  Lucien  Besnard's  comedy  U Affaire 
Grisel. 

But  success  did  not  respond  to  the  effort.  The 
situation  of  the  building — in  the  Avenue  de  Clichy 
— was  not  so  good  as  that  of  the  Belleville  theater. 
One  of  the  first  cares  of  the  founders  of  any  new 
people's  theater  should  be  the  study  of  the  neigh- 
borhood in  which  they  plan  to  begin,  and  the  hall 
in  which  the  plays  are  to  be  performed.  In  a  city 
the  size  of  Paris,  with  its  manifold  complexities, 
there  is  as  much  difference  between  one  neighbor- 
hood and  another  as  between  two  provinces.  I  do 
not  mean  that  one  cannot  change  one's  public;  on 
the  contrary,  I  think  that  this  is  the  purpose  of  all 
true  art;  art,  that  is,  that  refuses  to  pander  to  the 
public.  But  of  course  this  transformation  requires 
much  time  and  trouble,  M.  Beaulieu  spared  no 
pains,  but  time  and  funds  were  limited.  He  found, 
too,  a  spirit  of  the  bitterest  opposition.  The  neigh- 
borhood of  the  Batignolles  is  like  a  little  provincial 
town,  and  the  people  were  hostile  to  everything  that 
came  from  the  outside.  The  Bourgeoisie  refused  to 
come  to  a  theater  where  they  could  not  reserve  seats 
in  advance,  and  the  few  who  did  come  looked  at 
the  scale  of  prices  in  the  box-office  and  said :  "  It 
must  be  poor  if  the  seats  are  so  cheap!  "  ,  But  the 
worst  enemies  of  the  venture  were  the  people  them- 


PRECURSORS  OF  THE  THEATER       97 

selves.      They   refused   to   be   merely  the   people. 
They  said  to  M.  Beaulieu : 

"  People  yourself !  We're  as  good  bourgeois  as 
you!" 

I  presume  that  if  he  had  wished  to  force  them  to 
go  to  his  theater  he  would  have  had  to  call  it 
Theater  of  the  Bourgeoisie!  ^ 

Here  we  come  to  the  most  difficult  part  of  our 
problem,  one  which  threatens  to  destroy  all  attempts 
to  establish  a  people's  art  at  Paris.  The  people  of 
Paris  seem  to  have  lost  all  sense  of  class  distinc- 
tion. The  demoralizing  atmosphere  of  a  city  roll- 
ing in  luxury,  pleasure,  and  business,  appears  to 
have  debilitated  all  the  inhabitants.  Or,  to  be  more 
exact,  there  are  two  peoples  in  Paris:  the  one  that 
has  just  emerged  from  a  state  of  downright  poverty, 
and  is  at  once  taken  into  the  Bourgeoisie.  The 
other  is  vanquished  by  its  more  fortunate  brothers, 
and  is  in  a  state  of  abject  misery.  The  first  will  not 
have  a  people's  theater,  and  the  second  obviously 
cannot  attend  one.  The  Bourgeoisie  tries  to  anni- 
hilate one  and  assimilate  the  other.  But  it  is  our 
political  and  artistic  ideal  to  bring  together  these  two 
peoples  and  give  them  a  collective  sense  of  their 
party.     And  in  this  respect  we  agree  with  the  aims 

*  Perhaps  it  will  not  be  amiss  to  state  the  extraordinary 
effect  of  some  of  these  plays  on  the  audiences  of  the  Bati- 
gnolles.  They  were  frankly  hostile  to  Therese  Raqtiin;  they 
misunderstood  La  Vie  publique ;  the  irony  of  Boubouroche 
was  too  much  for  them.  On  the  other  hand,  they  enjoyed 
La  Robe  rouge,  Honor,  Lc  Dcpit  anioureux,  and,  above  all, 
The  Weavers  and  La  Fille  Eliza. 


98  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

of  Syndicalism.  Not  that  we  are  endeavoring  to 
set  one  class  against  the  other,  but  because  we  wish 
to  establish  the  greatest  harmony  among  the  various 
forces  of  the  nation;  to  this  end,  we  would  have  each 
of  the  constituent  elements — above  all,  that  in  which 
the  strength  is  greatest — preserve  intact  its  individ- 
uality. Just  as,  while  we  are  striving  to  found  a 
new  Europe  in  which  the  thought  of  the  Occidental 
races  shall  be  common  to  all,  we  wish  each  race, 
far  from  losing  its  character  and  forgetting  its  past 
glory,  to  bring  what  is  most  glorious  and  lay  it  on 
the  common  altar  of  humanity. 


II 

THE  NEW  THEATER 
Moral  and  Physical  Conditions 

Such,  briefly,  is  the  history  of  the  first  attempts 
to  create  a  People's  Theater  in  France.  They 
are  the  direct  result,  as  we  have  seen,  of  the  great 
democratic  traditions  of  the  eighteenth  century 
philosophers  and  the  men  of  the  Convention.  There 
remains  for  us  to  state  our  conception  of  this  new 
theater. 

The  economic  aspects  of  the  question  have  re- 
ceived adequate  treatment  at  the  hands  of  Eugene 
Morel. ^  Of  course,  I  do  not  invariably  agree  with 
him.  For  instance.  Morel  believes  in  the  theater 
for  its  own  sake :  "  The  more  theaters  the  better. 
The  more  people,  the  better.  I  consider  quantity, 
not  quality."  On  the  contrary,  I  think  only  of  qual- 
ity, and  not  at  all  of  quantity.  I  have  no  faith  in  a 
theater  without  an  ideal.  I  should  not  trouble  my 
head  about  the  people  if  I  thought  they  might  be- 
come merely  another  Bourgeoisie,  as  vulgar  in  their 
pleasures,  as  hypocritical  in  their  morality,  as  stupid 
and   apathetic,   as   the   actual    Bourgeoisie.      Little 

'  Letter  from  Eugene  Morel  to  Georges  Bourdon  (in  the 
Revue  bleue.  May  lo,  1902). 

99 


lOO  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

would  I  care  to  prolong  an  art  of  empty  nothing- 
ness, and  a  class  of  people  which  seems  at  the  edge 
of  the  grave.  But  if  I  have  much  less  faith  in  the 
absolute  worth  of  art  than  Morel,  and  much  more  in 
a  moral  and  social  revolution  of  humanity,  I  cannot 
help  admiring  the  originality  with  which  he  has  at- 
tempted to  solve  the  problem  of  popular  art.  His 
Projet  de  theatres  populaires,  so  far  as  material 
organization  is  concerned,  is  a  genuinely  original 
contribution,  full  of  fertile  ideas;  his  novel  sugges- 
tions are  rendered  more  valuable  by  a  judicious 
sense  of  the  practical  requirements.  I  need  not 
analyze  that  work  here:  it  should  be  read  from 
cover  to  cover.  I  shall  content  myself  with  ex- 
posing its  principal  outlines. 

M.  Morel  places  his  People's  Theater  on  a  finan- 
cial basis  by  means  of  subscriptions.  "  Taste  can 
only  be  formed  by  the  constant  sight  of  beautiful 
things.  Education  requires  repetition.  In  order 
to  exercise  any  appreciable  influence  over  the  public, 
you  must  always  have  a  public.  Occasional  festi- 
vals may  be  more  imposing,  but  their  influence 
amounts  to  nothing."  ^  The  subscriptions  were  for 
weekly  performances.  "  This  is  the  most  regular 
form  of  subscription,  the  one  best  calculated  to  form 
the  habit/'     And  Morel  proposes  to  issue  25-franc 

^  I  do  not  altogether  agree  with  Morel.  One  has  only  to 
recall  the  profound  and  lasting  effect  of  a  few  occasional 
spectacles  on  the  mind  of  a  child  unused  to  entertainments 
of  the  sort.  It  is  true,  however,  that  they  do  not  form 
the  habit.  I  think  it  necessary  to  introduce  regular  festivals 
as  a  matter  of  education. 


THE  NEW  THEATER  loi 

certificates  the  coupons  from  which  may  be  used  as 
tickets  from  week  to  week.  By  an  additional  pay- 
ment of  ten  francs,  an  original  purchaser  may  renew 
his  subscription  after  he  has  used  his  first  twenty- 
five  tickets.  I  need  not  enter  into  detail  as 
to  Morel's  methods  of  easy  payment,  which  he  has 
further  simplified  by  reducing  expenses.  This  he 
has  done  by  discounting  authors'  royalties  and  sug- 
gesting a  reform  in  the  Public  Charities'  taxes, 
which  under  the  present  system  make  a  People's 
Theater  almost  impossible  to  run.  "  And  finally," 
he  concludes,  "  we  are  not  establishing  a  charitable 
institution;  but  we  must  have  a  system  whereby 
very  few  families  would  be  too  poor  to  go  to  the 
theater;  and,  consequently,  the  theater,  far  from 
being  a  luxury,  would  actually  develop  a  sense  of 
thrift  and  economy." 

The  renewal  of  subscriptions  under  this  system 
would  naturally  reduce  the  income  for  the  follow- 
ing year,  but  now  it  will  be  seen  that  the  People's 
Theater  is  not  a  single  isolated  institution.  "  The 
moment  it  succeeds  the  profits  must  go  to  the 
founding  of  another  theater,  in  a  different  neigh- 
borhood. In  this  way,  a  play  will  no  longer  be 
performed  only  seven  days,  but  fourteen,  and  the 
capital  required  for  the  foundation  of  the  original 
theater  replaced  out  of  the  profits  of  the  second. 
The  second,  then,  making  use  of  the  material  as  well 
as  the  actors  of  the  first,  will  have  no  trouble  in 
starting,  and  will  be  further  enabled  to  profit  by  the 
experience  of  the  one  before  it.     The  use  of  the 


I02  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

same  costumes  and  scenery  in  the  second  theater 
will  further  reduce  the  expenses."  These  theaters 
are  to  be  organized  not  only  throughout  Paris,  but 
in  every  province  of  France.  "  We  wish  to  cover 
France  with  theaters."  The  theaters  would  be  so 
closely  allied  that  actors,  costumes,  and  scenery 
would  be  common  property,  under  the  administra- 
tion of  a  central  committee  and  its  representative, 
the  director.  The  State  would  have  nothing  to  do 
— except  to  lend  its  aid  in  collecting  the  subscrip- 
tions, and  its  influence  to  insure  the  carrying  out  of 
the  principles  laid  down  by  the  founders.  It  is 
asked  for  no  endowment,  and  no  guarantees.  The 
People's  Theaters  are  to  be  independent,  and  the 
State  is  only  to  stand  by  and  see  that  they  are  well 
run.^ 

*  It  is  interesting  to  compare  this  with  the  organization  of 
the  Schiller-Theater  of  Berlin.  This  theater  is  based  on  the 
subscription  plan.  Subscriptions  are  payable  quarterly  and 
cost  five  marks;  one  ticket  entitles  the  bearer  to  five  seats 
(including  program,  cloak-room  fees,  etc.).  There  is  no 
State  endowment.  The  capital  is  supplied  by  stockholders, 
who  are  the  trustees,  the  president  of  whom  is  the  di- 
rector. His  salary  is  10,000  marks  a  year.  If  the  profits 
exceed  5  per  cent  on  the  capital,  they  are  given  not  to 
the  stockholders,  but  to  the  actors  and  employees  who  are 
most  deserving.  The  director,  Herr  Loewenfeld,  guarantees 
his  company — in  December,  1899,  there  were  twenty-two  men 
and  twelve  women — salaries  not  exceeding  8,000  marks,  one 
month's  vacation  a  year,  and  costumes  for  the  actresses.  I 
have  already  stated  that  at  the  end  of  the  first  year  Herr 
Loewenfeld  had  6,000  subscribers.  The  Schiller-Theater  gave 
380  performances  in  eleven  months:  319  evenings,  49  mati- 
nees, and  12  performances  for  students;  37  plays  were  pro- 
duced, of  which  two   were  new ;   25   evenings   were  devoted 


THE  NEW  THEATER  103 

1  have  said  enough  of  this  plan. to  show  its  orig- 
inahty,  and  I  may  now  proceed  to  study  it  more 
closely. 

Supposing  that  the  capital  is  secured  and  the  pub- 
lic ready.  What  conditions  are  necessary  to  a  real 
People's  Theater  ? 

I  shall  not  try  to  lay  down  absolute  rules  of  pro- 
cedure :  we  must  remember  that  no  laws  are  eter- 
nally applicable,  the  only  good  laws  being  made  for 
an  epoch  that  passes  and  a  country  that  changes. 
Popular  art  is  essentially  changeable.  Not  only  do 
the  people  feel  in  a  manner  far  different  from  the 
"  cultured "  class,  there  exist  different  groups 
among  the  people  themselves :  the  people  of  today 
and  the  people  of  tomorrow;  those  of  a  certain  part 
of  a  certain  city,  and  those  of  a  part  of  another 
city.  We  cannot  presume  to  do  more  than  establish 
an  average,  more  or  less  applicable  to  the  people 
of  Paris  at  the  present  time. 

The  first  requisite  of  the  People's  Theater  is  that 
it  must  be  a  recreation.  It  must  first  of  all  give 
pleasure,  a  sort  of  physical  and  moral  rest  to  the 
workingman  weary  from  his  day's  wod^.  It  will  be 
the  task  of  the  architects  of  the  future  People's 
Theater  to  see  that  cheap  seats  are  not  instruments 
of  inquisitorial  torture.     It  will  be  the  task  of  the 

to  poetry  readings,  one  to  the  recitation  of  fables,  and  one 
to  Christmas  stories.  No  play  may  be  performed  more  than 
twelve  times,  and  the  programs  change  daily.  The  theater  is 
used  during  the  day  for  expositions  and  lectures.  The  Freie 
Volksbi'ihne  of  Vienna  began  by  renting  productions  from 
other  theaters,  and  giving  Sunday  matinees. 


I04  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

dramatists  to  see  that  their  works  produce  joy,  and 
not  sadness  and  boredom.  The  greatest  vanity  or 
else  downright  stupidity  are  the  only  excuses  for 
offering  the  people  the  latest  products  of  a  decadent 
art,  which  produces  evil  effects  sometimes  even  on 
the  minds  of  the  torpid.  As  for  the  sufferings  and 
doubts  of  the  "  cultured,"  let  them  keep  these  to 
themselves:  the  people  have  more  than  enough  al- 
ready. There  is  no  use  adding  to  their  burden. 
The  man  of  our  times  who  best  understood  the  peo- 
ple— Tolstoy — has  not  always  himself  escaped  this 
artistic  vice,  and  he  has  bravely  humbled  himself  for 
his  pride.  Plis  vocation  as  an  apostle,  that  imperi- 
ous need  of  his  to  impose  his  faith  on  others,  and 
the  exigencies  of  his  artistic  realism,  were  greater  in 
The  Power  of  Darkness  than  his  fundamental  good- 
ness. Such  plays,  it  seems  to  me,  discourage  rather 
than  help  the  people.  If  we  offered  them  no  other 
fare,  they  would  be  right  in  turning  their  backs  on 
us  and  seeking  to  drown  their  troubles  at  the  cabaret. 
It  would  be  pitiless  of  us  to  try  to  divert  their  sad 
existences  with  the  spectacle  of  similar  existences. 
If  certain  of  the  "  cultured  few "  take  pleasure 
"  sucking  melancholy  as  a  weasel  sucks  an  egg,"  we 
at  least  cannot  demand  the  same  intellectual  stoicism 
from  the  people.  The  people  are  fond  of  violent 
acts,  provided  they  do  not,  as  in  life,  crush  the  hero. 
No  matter  how  discouraged  or  resigned  the  people 
are  in  their  lives,  they  are  extravagantly  optimistic 
where  their  dream-heroes  are  concerned,  and  they 
suffer  when  a  play  turns  out  sadly.     But  does  this 


THE  NEW  THEATER  105 

mean  that  they  want  tearful  melodramas  with  uni- 
formly happy  endings?  Surely  not.  The  crude 
concoction  of  lies  that  forms  the  basis  of  most  melo- 
drama merely  stupefies  them,  acting  as  a  soporific, 
and  contributes,  like  alcohol,  to  general  inertia.  The 
factor  of  amusement  which  we  have  desiderated  in 
this  art  should  not  be  allowed  to  take  the  place  of 
moral  energy.     On  the  contrary ! 

The  theater  ought  to  he  a  source  of  energy:  this 
is  the  second  requisite.  The  obligation  to  avoid 
what  is  depressing  and  discouraging  is  altogether 
negative;  an  antidote  is  necessary,  something  to 
support  and  exalt  the  soul.  In  giving  the  people 
recreation,  the  theater  is  obliged  to  render  them 
better  able  to  set  to  work  on  the  morrow.  The 
happiness  of  simple  and  healthy  men  is  never  com- 
plete without  some  sort  of  action.  Let  the  theater 
be  an  arena  of  action.  Let  the  people  make  of  their 
dramatist  a  congenial  traveling-companion,  alert, 
jovial,  heroic  if  need  be,  on  whose  arm  they  may 
lean,  on  whose  good  humor  they  may  count  to  make 
them  forget  the  fatigue  of  the  journey.  It  is  the 
duty  of  this  companion  to  take  the  people  straight 
to  their  destination — without  of  course  neglecting  to 
teach  them  to  observe  along  the  road.  This,  it  seems 
to  me,  is  the  third  requisite  of  our  People's  Theater : 

The  theater  ought  to  be  a  guiding  light  to  the 
intelligence.  It  should  flood  with  light  the  terrible 
brain  of  man,  which  is  filled  with  shadows  and  mon- 
sters, and  is  exceeding  narrow  and  cramped.  We 
have  just  spoken  of  the  need  of  guarding  against 


io6  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

giving  every  product  of  the  artist  to  the  people;  I 
do  not  wish,  however,  to  imply  that  they  must  be 
spared  all  incentive  to  thought.  The  working- 
man  does  not  as  a  rule  think  while  his  body  is 
working.  It  is  good  to  exercise  his  brain  and,  no 
matter  how  little  he  may  understand,  it  will  afford 
him  pleasure,  just  as  violent  exercise  is  always  grati- 
fying to  any  normal  man  after  prolonged  inaction. 
He  must  be  taught,  then,  to  see  things  clearly  as 

_,  well  as  himself,  and  to  judge. 

Ccj)  J^y^  energy,  and  intelligence:  these  are  the  three 
fundamental  requisites  of  our  People's  Theater.  So 
far  as  a  moral  purpose  is  concerned — lessons,  that 
is,  in  virtue,  social  solidarity,  and  the  like — we  need 
not  bother  much  about  that.  The  mere  existence  of 
a  permanent  theater,  where  great  emotions  are 
shared  and  shared  often,  will  create  at  least  for  the 
time  being  a  bond  of  brotherhood.  In  place  of  vir- 
tue, give  them  more  intelligence,  more  happiness, 
and  more  energy :  virtue  and  moral  lessons  will  take 
care  of  themselves.  People  are  not  so  much  down- 
right bad  as  ignorant:  their  badness  is  only  the 
result  of  ignorance.  Our  great  problem  is  to  bring 
more  light,  purer  air,  and  better  order  into  the  chaos 
of  the  soul.  It  is  enough  if  we  set  the  people  to 
thinking  and  doing;  let  us  not  think  and  do  for 
them.  Let  us  above  all  avoid  preaching  morality; 
only  too  often  have  the  truest  friends  of  the  people 
made  art  repellent  to  them  by  this  means.  The 
People's  Theater  must  avoid  these  two  excesses: 
moral  pedagogy,  which  seeks  to  extract  lifeless  les- 


THE  NEW  THEATER  107 

sons  from  living  works  (a  stupid  thing  to  do,  for 
the  keenly  alert  will  immediately  scent  the  bait  and 
avoid  it),  and  mere  impersonal  dilettantism,  whose 
only  purpose  is  to  amuse  the  people  at  any  cost — a 
dishonorable  thing,  with  which  the  people  are  not 
always  pleased,  for  they  can  judge  those  who  amuse 
them;  and  often  there  is  a  mixture  of  disdain  in 
their  laughter.  No  moral  purpose,  then,  and  no 
mere  empty  amusement,  in  and  for  itself.  Morality 
is  no  more  than  the  hygiene  of  the  heart  and  the 
brain. ^  Let  us  found  a  theater  full  to  the  brim 
with  health  and  joy.  "  Joy,  the  abounding  strength 
of  nature  .  .  .  joy,  which  turns  the  wheels  of  the 
world's  clocks;  joy,  which  revolves  the  spheres  in 
space;  joy,  which  brings  forth  the  flower  from  the 
seed,  and  suns  from  the  firmament!  " 

Such  are  the  moral  requisites — moral  in  the  sense 
I  have  just  indicated — of  our  new  Theater.  We 
must  now  consider  the  very  important  question  of 
physical  requisites. 

Regarding  the  architecture  of  the  hall.  Morel  is 
in  favor  of  the  trapezoidal  form,  like  the  Bayreuth 
Theater  and  the  Maison  du  Peuple  at  Brussels.  M. 
Gosset,  an  architect,  proposes  a  series  of  semicir- 
cular steps  in  the  form  of  an  amphitheater,  divided 
into  two  or  three  floors.  I  myself  have  no  prefer- 
ence. The  essential  point  is  that  all  the  seats  be 
equally  good.  This  is  why  none  of  our  old  theaters, 
so  odiously  aristocratic,  could  be  used  as  People's 

*  "  The  ineffable  joy  we  feel  when  we  are  perfectly  healthy 
in  mind  and  spirit."     (Schiller  to  Goethe,  Jan.  7,  1795.) 


io8  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

Theaters,  even  with  considerable  changes.  We 
might  however  use  our  circuses.  Nor  shall  we 
achieve  a  true  brotherhood  among  men  or  develop 
any  truly  universal  art  until  we  have  done  away 
with  the  stupid  system  of  orchestra  seats  and  boxes, 
and  the  resultant  antagonism  between  classes.  I 
would  have  at  most  only  two  kinds  of  seats:  first, 
practically  all  the  seats  in  the  hall,  and  then  a  few 
reserved  at  the  back  for  families.  The  working- 
man  who  returns  home  late  has  no  time  to  dress, 
and  he  may  not  feel  altogether  comfortable  if  he  is 
forced  to  show  himself  in  his  everyday  clothes :  the 
reserved  seats  will  allow  him  to  see  without  being 
seen.  I  am  not  sure  but  that  this  condition  would 
help  the  people  in  the  matter  of  pride  in  their  per- 
sonal appearance :  this  would  not  be  one  of  the  least 
advantages  of  our  People's  Theater. 

As  for  the  stage,  it  should  be  so  constructed  as 
to  allow  masses  of  people  to  act  on  it :  fifteen  meters 
wide  (with  a  movable  proscenium  arch  in  order  to 
make  the  opening  smaller  on  occasion),  and  twenty 
deep.  Morel  demands  a  perfected  system  of  ma- 
chinery, with  Versenkungen  as  used  in  Germany, 
England,  and  America;  the  revolving  stage,  the  use 
of  which  allows  the  poet  free  rein.  Surely  there  is 
no  reason  why  an  entirely  new  theater  should  not 
have  these  latest  mechanical  devices,  unless  their 
installation  should  require  too  great  an  outlay.  But 
I  cannot  help  remarking  that,  for  my  part,  I  do  not 
insist  on  them.  Georges  Bourdon  writes  that  "  this 
great  mechanical  evolution  will  perhaps  appear  only 


THE  NEW  THEATER  109 

a  tiny  advance  in  the  near  future."  I  believe  that 
an  almost  total  suppression  of  mechanical  devices 
would  be  a  decided  step  in  advance,  and  just  as 
influential  in  the  evolution  of  the  art  of  the  stage. 
I  recall  Michelet's  words:  "A  drama  simple  and 
vigorous,  played  throughout  the  countryside,  where 
the  energy  of  talent,  the  creative  power  which  lies 
in  the  heart,  and  the  youthful  imagination  of  an 
entirely  new  people  will  do  away  with  mere  physical 
means,  sumptuous  stage-settings,  and  costumes, 
without  which  the  feeble  dramatists  of  this  outworn 
age  cannot  move." 

Art  would  have  everything  to  gain  if  it  cast  aside 
this  childish  luxury  to  which  it  has  become  enslaved, 
that  is  valueless  except  to  those  whose  brains  are 
withered  and  people  who  can  in  no  wise  feel  the 
true  emotions  of  art.  Certain  performances  given 
by  the  CEiivre  des  Trente  ans  de  Theatre  have  very 
easily  done  without  stage-settings;  and  we  know 
that  rehearsals  without  costumes  and  scenery  have 
frequently  produced  an  impression  a  hundred  times 
more  profound  and  lasting  than  the  most  elaborately 
contrived  production.  I  have  often  tested  this  out 
for  myself,  in  our  regular  Paris  theaters  as  well 
as  in  People's  Theaters  like  that  at  Bussang.  Scen- 
ery is  a  convention,  and  the  only  ones  who  are  ever 
deceived  are  either  the  very  simple,  or  those  who  are 
least  so.  The  latter  do  not  interest  me  at  all,  and 
as  to  the  former,  well,  the  people  have  no  monopoly 
of  them :  for  while  the  masses  are  more  simple  than 
we,  they  are  not  more  childlike.     Simplicity  is  either 


no  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

a  very  rare  natural  gift — such  simplicity  as  we  find 
in  the  people — or  else  it  is  merely  the  result  of  lack 
of  experience  in  theater-going.  But  we  maintain 
that  the  people  are  used  to  going  to  the  theater,  or 
that  they  soon  will  be;  it  is  therefore  futile  to 
count  upon  their  simplicity :  in  this  year  of  1903, 
the  simplest  public  is  that  thronging  the  boulevards, 
night  after  night,  to  see  a  comedy  of  M.  Capus. 
After  all,  I  am  not  so  much  opposed  to  the  use  of 
scenery  and  elaborate  costumes  as  to  the  scandal- 
ous and  useless  excesses  they  entail,  which  no  well- 
organized  society  should  tolerate,  and  which  have 
nothing  to  do  with  art.  My  People's  Theater  shall 
have  nothing  hut  a  large  hall,  like  the  Salle  Hiiy- 
ghens,  or  a  public  meeting-place  like  the  Salle 
Wagram — preferably  with  a  slanting  floor,  allowing 
every  spectator  a  full  view;  at  the  end  of  this  hall 
there  must  be  a  high  and  wide  platform. 

As  I  see  it,  there  is  but  one  primary  physical 
requisite  for  a  real  People's  Theater:  the  stage  and 
auditorium  must  be  large  enough  to  accommodate 
large  masses  of  people.^     The  other  requisites  are 

^  The  people's  performances  and  festivals  of  Switzerland 
deserve  further  study.  Many  useful  things  may  be  learned 
from  them,  in  particular  what  they  call  the  "  chemin  de 
cortege."  This  is  a  long  and  winding  pathway,  which  leads 
from  one  of  the  large  doorways  on  either  side  of  the  stage 
(and  oif -stage),  and  comes  down,  outside  the  proscenium. 
This  is  where  armies  enter,  combats  are  fought,  and  cavalry 
charges  introduced.  In  this  way  large  mobs  of  people  can 
easily  be  manipulated  without  confusion  and  the  illusion  is 
the  better  preserved.  In  outdoor  performances  this  "  chemin 
de  cortege  "  is  often  an  ordinary  country  road,  and  leads  in 


THE  NEW  THEATER  iii 

corollaries  of  this.  Plays  performed  before  thou- 
sands of  spectators  must  be  adapted  to  the  sight  and 
hearing. 

In  his  Essais  siir  la  miisique,^  Gretry  draws  an 
interesting  sketch  of  a  new  theater  wherein  he  at- 
tempts to  reconcile  his  minor  art  of  graceful  senti- 
ment with  the  democratic  aspirations  of  his  time. 
He  gave  proof  of  his  common-sense  in  indicating 
the  necessary  relations  existing  between  architecture 
and  the  drama.  These  pages  are  well  known  to 
musicians,  but  it  will  not  be  amiss  to  bring  them 
to  the  attention  of  literary  men  : 

"  Why  does  one  so  often  hear  people  coming  from 
the  theater  say  '  What  a  bore !  '  It  is  not  always 
that  the  play  bored  them,  or  that  the  actors  were 
poor,  though  they  are  invariably  blamed ;  it  is  above 
all  because  there  is  very  rarely  established  any  true 
relation  between  the  constituent  elements  of  the  per- 
formance, stage,  and  plays  produced  on  the  one 
hand,  and  the  means  of  producing  them  on  the 

from  the  woods  and  fields.  The  Swiss  use  scenery  even  in 
their  outdoor  productions,  but  the  mixture  of  paint  and  natu- 
ral scenery  is  shocking  to  me.  I  know  that  Maurice  Pot- 
techer  agrees  with  the  Swiss,  and  believes  that  this  produces 
beautiful  effects.  Possibly  some  happy  combination  will  one 
day  be  found,  but  with  a  new  art  of  scene-painting,  and  real 
architectural  structures,  and  a  special  science  of  outdoor 
optics.  But  up  to  the  present,  the  results  have  been  atrocious. 
There  is  nothing  lovelier  than  the  natural  horizon,  prairies, 
far-off  hills,  harmonizing  with  a  wall  or  two  towers  (as  in 
certain  of  the  Swiss  Festspiele). 

'  Bk.  IV,  Ch.  IV.  The  volume  was  printed  at  the  expense 
of  the  State,  by  the  Committee  of  Public  Instruction,  on  the 
suggestion  of  Lakanal. 


112  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

other.     Take  a  large  hall,  if  you  will,  but  let  the 
orchestra  be  correspondingly  large,   and  not  play 
soft  plaintive  airs.     If  I  must  guess  what  the  or- 
chestra is  playing,  I  am  bored.     Great  mass  effects 
and  sweep  are  what  are  needed;  and  everything  that 
is  to  be  seen  and  heard  at  close  range  must  be  elimi- 
nated.    Plays  in  which  the  love  interest  assumes  a 
prominent  place — plays  of   intrigue,   that  is,  with 
familiar  and  pastoral  subjects,  can  only  be  made 
effective  by  means  of  a  thousand  details  of  facial 
expression,  asides,  and  so  on;  just  as  no  musical 
composition  can  be  properly  understood  or  inter- 
preted except  by  a  thousand  trills,  pizzicati,  and  ar- 
peggios; all  these  details,  if  set  forth  within  the 
framework  of  a  small  stage  are  effective,  but  if  per- 
formed in  a  large  hall,  are  quite  lost.     Can  we  have 
awditoriums  for  our  musical  tragedies?     Yes,  but 
the  poet  must  remember  these  points :  first,  he  must 
treat  only  well-known  stories,  for  in  these  the  lan- 
guage may  be  brief ;  second,  he  must  introduce  only 
great  masses,   broad  tableaux  set   off  with   much 
pomp,   marching,   sacrifices,   combats,   dances,   and 
pantomimes — but  each  of  these  must  be  short,  as 
they  are  only  accessory  to  the  principal  action;  third, 
that  every  lyric  must  be  simple  and  contain  no  more 
than  a  single  thought.     If  he  observe  these  rules  his 
work  will  gain  in  power,  rapidity,  and  variety,  ele- 
ments demanded  in  all  large  spectacles.     The  com- 
poser will  write  music  only  of  a  broad  and  simple 
character;  harmony  and  melody  must  have  sweep, 
and  all  detail  which  would  be  in  place  in  more 


THE  NEW  THEATER  113 

intimate  music  must  be  eschewed.  Very  few  com- 
plicated basses,  unless  the  theme  be  simple;  no  rou- 
lades in  the  singing;  and  almost  always  must  the 
words  correspond  exactly  with  the  music;  that  is, 
in  syllabic  combination.  Everything  must  be  large, 
for  remember,  this  is  a  picture  to  be  seen  from  a 
distance.  You  must  paint  zvith  a  broom.  Since 
the  words  intended  to  be  sung  express  but  one  idea, 
and  since  the  composer  has  only  to  think  of  the 
unity  of  his  composition  and  is  not  forced  to  fill 
it  with  affected  quips  and  turns,  he  will  usually  adopt 
such  a  meter  or  rhythm  that  he  shall  require  no 
other  throughout  the  whole  piece.  Gluck  realized 
this,  and  he  was  truly  great  only  when  he  limited  his 
orchestra  and  his  singers  to  simple  unity." 

With  very  few  reservations  (necessary  only  be- 
cause Gretry  wilfully  limits  musical  drama  to  his 
own  capacity)  these  are  sound  reflections,  profound 
even,  and  are  as  applicable  to  the  drama  as  they 
are  to  music;  we  have  only  to  apply  them.  Yes, 
"  Everything  that  is  to  be  seen  and  heard  at  close 
range  must  be  eliminated." — "  Great  mass  effects 
and  sweep,"  and  "  You  must  paint  with  a  broom." 
Farewell,  complicated  ps3'chology,  insidious  and  vi- 
cious and  obscure  symbolism — the  whole  art  of  the 
boudoir  and  drawing-room !  Or,  rather,  let  it  con- 
tinue its  moribund  existence  in  the  out-of-date  the- 
aters. But  it  will  be  ostracized  from  our  art,  as 
something  tiresome  and  absurd.  Our  People's  The- 
ater is  led  to  seek  by  force  of  circumstances  the  free- 
dom of  the  Greek  theater.     Broad  action,  faces  with 


114  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

elementary  and  conventional  features,  but  vigorously 
molded;  the  basic  passions,  throbbing  to  simple  but 
forceful  rhythm:  frescoes,  not  easel-paintings;  sym- 
phonies, not  chamber  music — a  monumental  art  for 
the  people,  and  by  the  people/ 

By  the  people!  Yes,  because  there  can  be  no 
great  popular  work  except  where  the  poet's  soul 
collaborates  with  that  of  the  nation,  and  receives 
nourishment  from  the  passions  common  to  all.  The 
bourgeois  critics  maintain  that  nothing  so  attracts 

*  Here  again  we  may  profitably  turn  to  the  performances 
in  Switzerland,  some  of  which,  like  those  at  Lausanne,  are 
given  before  20,000  spectators.  Here  are  a  few  points  which 
struck  me : 

1.  It  is  not  true,  as  some  musicians  have  maintained,  that 
these  huge  theaters  cannot  be  used  except  for  musical  pro- 
ductions. H  the  acoustics  are  normal,  the  spoken  word  car- 
ries as  far  as  the  sung  declamation,  and  much  better  than  the 
orchestra,  which,  in  outdoor  theaters,  should  be  reduced  to 
the  woodwinds  and  brasses:  stringed  instruments  are  almost 
lost. 

2.  It  goes  without  saying  that  the  actor  cannot  observe  the 
usual  rules  for  speaking.  He  must  stand  well  forward  and 
articulate  clearly.  Consequently  it  is  necessary  to  simplify 
the  action,  eliminate  long  dialogues.  Dialogue  must  be  clearly 
marked.  There  must  be  few  words,  and  few  gestures,  but 
these  should  be  expressive ;  vigorous  concentration  of  action, 
passion,  and  style. 

3.  Music  is  a  great  help — but  in  the  background.  It  ought 
to  be  merely  the  basis  of  the  fresco,  the  support  to  the  action, 
the  atmosphere.  It  should  impregnate  each  scene  with  the 
proper  color,  and  never  attract  attention  to  itself,  on  pain  of 
ruining  the  play.  In  a  word,  the  music  must  be  intelligently 
and  disinterestedly  administered.  (But  of  course  I  am  de- 
manding an  impossibility!) 

4.  A  theater  of  this  sort  requires  powerful  fresco  effects. 


THE  NEW  THEATER  115 

the  people  as  novels  and  plays  in  which  the  heroes 
are  of  the  upper  classes,  because  the  description  of 
a  richer  society  makes  them  for  the  time  being  for- 
get their  own  misery.  This  is  possibly  true,  so  long 
as  the  people  are  reduced  to  the  condition  in  which 
they  now  live;  but  the  moment  they  become  con- 
scious of  their  own  personality  and  realize  their 
civic  dignity,  they  will  blush  at  the  thought  of  hav- 
ing read  that  servants'  literature.  It  is  the  duty  of 
those  who  love  the  people  to  develop  their  taste. 

Great  masses  of  the  people  are  used,  as  individuals  are  in  our 
ordinary  theaters.  Group  dialogues  must  be  introduced, 
double  and  triple  choruses,  but  care  should  be  taken  not  to 
return  to  neo-classic  archaism,  as  Schiller  did  in  his  Brant 
von  Messina.  Each  group  should  also  be  allowed  the  greatest 
liberty  within  itself.  Individual  conflicts  should  little  by 
little  give  way  to  mass  conflict.  Broad  sweeping  lines.  Vig- 
orous dramatic  struggle.  Large  light-and-shade  effects.  It 
is  impossible  to  describe  the  overwhelming  effect  of  absolute 
silence  succeeding  a  tumult.  The  Greeks  realized  this.  The 
instinct  of  the  Swiss  peasant  also. 

5.  We  are  beginning  to  see  experiments  in  this  monu- 
mental and  statuesque  art,  and  a  new  dramatic  art  is  emerg- 
ing. It  seems  as  if  Diderot's  theory  of  "double  action"  is 
at  last  being  realized  (see  p.  66).  The  great  size  of  the 
Swiss  and  Bavarian  theaters  (especially  at  Oberammergau) 
are  such  as  to  allow  various  episodes  simultaneously  on 
different  levels  of  the  stage.  Here  the  Virgin  in  tears  seeks 
her  son,  while  there  we  see  Christ  in  a  street  of  Jerusalem, 
bearing  His  cross.  Caesar  is  seen  going  to  the  Capitol,  while 
inside  the  palace  the  conspirators  are  making  their  prepara- 
tions. These  are  different  aspects  of  the  drama,  all  happen- 
ing at  the  same  time.  The  play  is  immensely  richer  in  effect, 
and  the  sight  of  Destiny  reaching  out  for  blind  man  is  truly 
terrifying  and  magnificent. 

I  do  not  mean  that  the  people  must  necessarily  participate 


ii6  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

The  people  must  not  of  course  see  only  themselves 
represented  in  their  drama,  but  they  ought  to  be 
raised  from  the  humiliating  position  they  have  so 
long  occupied  on  our  stage.  They  must  no  longer 
be  depicted  as  skulking  valets,  spying  out  their 
masters'  secrets.  Let  them  participate  as  citizens 
of  the  universe,  in  the  great  spectacle  of  the  uni- 
verse! Let  all  classes  be  shown  on  the  stage,  just 
as  all  should  be  in  the  auditorium,  but  as  brothers 
and  equals,  and  not  as  rivals.  Let  the  people  be 
shown  the  great  men  of  the  world,  kings,  ministers, 
and  conquerors — not  because  they  were  the  people's 
masters,  but  because  they  represented  the  State — the 

in  the  action,  or  that  popular  dramas  require  actors  from 
among  the  people.  This  is  a  most  complex  question,  involv- 
ing not  only  esthetic  but  moral  problems.  In  the  case  of 
exceptional  festivals  there  is  nothing  more  natural  than  that 
the  people  should  participate — as  in  Switzerland,  where  all 
the  roles  are  played  by  the  people  or  the  bourgeois  of  the 
Canton  without  distinction  of  class.  In  a  case  of  this  sort, 
the  dramatic  action  is  a  real  action,  and  participation  in  it  is 
no  more  than  the  duty  of  a  citizen.  But  in  the  case  of  a 
regular  theater,  participation  on  the  part  of  the  people  is  in 
many  ways  inconvenient,  and  more  trouble  than  it  is  worth. 
It  keeps  them  from  their  work,  or  else  imposes  an  unreason- 
able amount  of  it  on  them;  but  above  all,  it  is  likely  to 
render  them  vain  and  insincere.  Art  gains  nothing;  or  if  it 
did,  it  would  be  at  too  great  cost.  Here  I  agree  with  Maurice 
Pottecher,  who  uses  actors  from  the  people  for  extraordinary 
festivals,  but  is  opposed  to  using  them  for  a  Parisian  Peo- 
ple's Theater.  "Why  go  to  the  trouble,  in  a  city  which  has 
already  so  many  professionals?  At  best  you  would  have 
only  a  few  mediocre  amateurs,  and  increase  the  number  of 
cheap  actors."  (Le  Theatre  du  Peuple,  in  the  Revue  des 
deux  Mondes,  July  i,  1903.) 


THE  NEW  THEATER  117 

commonwealth  of  which  they,  the  people,  are  today 
the  inheritors.  In  a  word,  let  everything  be  pre- 
sented to  the  people,  but  only  on  the  condition  that 
they  see  themselves  somewhere  in  it,  and  through 
the  present  and  the  past  become  part  of  the  universe, 
and  that  all  forms  of  human  energy  may  flow 
through  them  toward  the  common  weal. 


Ill 

TYPES  OF  PEOPLE'S  DRAMA 
Melodrama 

The  People's  Theater  is  the  key  to  a  new  art 
world,  which  art  has  hardly  caught  sight  of.  We 
have  reached  a  parting  of  the  ways,  beyond  which 
lies  an  almost  totally  unexplored  land.  Two  or 
three  more  venturesome  spirits  have  gone  ahead. 
But  the  instinct  of  the  people  should  have  guided 
these  artists.  The  people  speak  frankly,  and  their 
preferences  leave  no  possible  room  for  doubt.  But 
what  artist  cares  in  the  least  what  the  public  wants  ? 
They  consider  it  contemptible  not  to  feel  contempt 
for  the  people. 

Mocked  at  or  disdained,  little  do  the  people  care ! 
For  the  last  hundred  years  they  have  remained 
faithful  to  the  entertainment  so  despised  by  the 
delicate:  the  circus,  the  pantomime,  the  burlesque, 
and  the  melodrama.  That  is7  If  "hot  simple  plays, 
these  arouse  simple  emotions,  simple  pleasures — 
good  and  bad — but  still  simple,  appealing  to  the  soul 
through  the  senses. 

In  Greece  the  theater  was  popular.  What  were 
the  plays  of  the  Greeks?     It  has  been  fashionable 

1X8 


TYPES  OF  PEOPLE'S  DRAMA  119 

of  late  to  adapt  the  Greek  tragedies,  CEdiptis  the 
King  has  in  this  way  been  given  new  popularity. 
But  the  witty  critics,  wishing  to  show  that  they 
cannot  be  deceived,  took  great  pains  to  point  out 
that  CEdipus  was  fundamentally  nothing  but  melo- 
drama (with  a  secret  pride,  no  doubt,  in  having  con- 
victed Sophocles  of  his  inferiority  to  the  modern 
dramatists).  They  are  not  mistaken  in  calling  the 
play  melodrama :  CEdipus  is  a  melodrama,  and  one 
of  the  most  horrible  of  its  kind.  The  Oresteia  is— 
another,  _.but  not  even  M.  d'Ennery.  would  have 
dared  write  such  sensational  horrors  as  are  found  in 
this  trilogy. 

The  Elizabethan  drama  of  England  was  people's 
drama.  From  time  to  time  certain  of  Shakespeare's 
plays  are  produced  here.  The  critics  can  never  suf- 
ficiently praise  the  marvelous  acting,  the  exquisite 
setting,  the  able  stage-management,  the  exquisite 
music,  and  the  admirable  translation  (though  some- 
times they  attribute  to  Shakespeare  the  inventions  of 
the  translator!);  but  they  seem  to  insinuate  that 
Shakespeare  is  very  lucky  indeed  to  be  produced 
with  all  these  elements  of  success,  without  mention- 
ing the  greatest  of  all:  the  prestige  of  age.  They 
insinuate  that  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  is  noth- 
ing but  farce,  and  Macbeth  a  melodrama  with  ridic- 
ulous bloody  ghosts,  remorse,  and  all  the  sickly-con- 
science paraphernalia — a  regular  Ambigu  "  melo." 
And  of  course,  people  of  taste  cannot  help  laughing 
at  the  wholesale  slaughter  at  the  end  of  Hamlet. 
When  King  Lear  is  produced  the  audience  is  spared 


I20  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

the  mad  ravings  of  the  King  and  Cornwall's  horrible 
atrocity  to  Gloster. 

Irony,  contempt,  or  fashionable  enthusiasm! 
This  was  the  lot  of  the  people's  plays,  and  it  still 
is.  There  is  no  doubt  a  great  chasm  between  the 
sublime  melodramas  of  Shakespeare  and  Sophocles, 
and  our  cheap  manufactured  products,  all  cut  to  a 
pattern.  But  without  troubling  to  consider  the 
scribblers  who  write  melodramas — and  they  are 
worse  than  the  rest  because  they  rob  the  poor — 
let  us  study  the  type,  and  learn  the  true  reason  for 
its  success. 

"  Take  two  sympathetic  characters,  one  the  vic- 
tim, the  other  a  sinister  and  hateful  villain;  intro- 
duce a  few  grotesque  figures  out  of  everyday  life,  a 
few  timely  political,  religious,  or  social  allusions; 
mix  tears  with  laughter,  and  add  a  song  with  an 
easy  chorus.  Five  acts  in  all  and  as  few  waits  as 
possible."     Here  is  your  recipe. 

It  is  easy  to  criticize  melodrama,  but,  as  has  been 
observed  by  M.  Georges  Jubin  ^  in  a  very  intelligent 
little  article  on  melodrama,  "  even  in  making  fun  of 
it,  you  will  have  discovered  the  law  of  the  People's 
Theater.  You  will  learn  that  four  things  are  neces- 
sary to  please  the  people :  the  mixing  of  laughter  and 
tears ;  the  interlude ;  the  presence  of  evil  but  with  the 
hint  that  good  will  prevail;  and  a  long  evening's 
entertainment  which  is  worth  the  price  of  admis- 
sion. In  other  words :  Mingling  of  pleasing  and 
painful  emotions,   True  realism,  Simple  morality, 

'  In  the  Revue  d'art  dramatique,  Nov.,  1897. 


TYPES  OF  PEOPLE'S  DRAMA  121 

and  Getting  one's  money's  worth.  The  dramatist 
must  think  of  this  last  point  if  he  is  in  earnest,  and 
wishes  really  to  found  a  People's  Theater." 

First,  then,  the  necessity  for  varied  emotions :  the 
people  come  to  the  theater  to  feel,  and  not  to  learn. 
Since  they  give  themselves  up  entirely  to  their  feel- 
ings, they  demand  that  the  emotions  offered  them  be 
varied,  for  prolonged  sadness  or  gaiety  would  be  too 
great  a  strain.  They  seek  relief  from  laughter  in 
tears,  and  from  tears  in  laughter. 

Second,  the  necessity  for  true  realism.  One  of 
the  principal  reasons  for  the  success  of  a  melodrama 
lies  in  the  scrupulous  exactitude  with  which  such  and 
such  a  well-known  place  is  reproduced:  a  cabaret,  a 
market,  a  pawn-shop,  or  the  like. 

Third,  the  necessity  for  simple  morality.  The 
popular  public  demands,  not  as  a  result  of  their 
simple-mindedness  but  as  a  sort  of  hygiene,  some 
support  for  the  innate  conviction  in  every  one  of 
them  that  good  will  eventually  triumph  over  evil. 
It  is  right  that  they  should  feel  this,  for  it  is  a  law  of 
life  and  progress. 

Fourth,  the  necessity  for  a  square  deal.  There 
exists  an  implicit  agreement  on  the  part  of  drama- 
tists and  directors  not  to  rob  the  public  by  keeping 
them  shut  up  in  a  theater  for  four  hours  and  giving 
them  less  than  two  hours'  actual  entertainment. 
The  people  come  to  the  theater  to  see  the  play,  and 
not,  as  in  the  ordinary  playhouses,  to  exhibit  them- 
selves, to  gossip,  or  to  flirt. 

Which  of  the  two  publics  cares  more  about  art? 


122  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

Are  not  the  rules  we  have  just  outlined  legitimate, 
human,  and  vital?  It  only  remains  to  apply  them 
with  artistic  integrity.  The  dramatists  have  only 
themselves  to  blame  if  modern  melodrama,  which  is 
left  to  the  first  comer,  is  so  stupid.  Let  them  im- 
prove it!  Let  them  stop  writing  the  facile  out- 
moded plays  now  in  fashion,  and  turn  their  efforts 
to  writing  people's  plays,  ridding  these  of  the  ac- 
cumulated crudeness  that  generations  of  unscrupu- 
lous purveyors  have  allowed  to  infest  them;  let  them 
put  truth  and  body  into  the  form,  and  embellish  it 
with  dignified  French.  They  would  derive  no  less 
benefit  than  the  people  themselves,  for  they  would 
escape  the  fashionable  and  consequently  the  transi- 
tory, and  come  nearer  to  the  eternal  realities  of 
mankind. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  there  is  no  form  so  difficult 
and  so  sublime  as  great  poetic  melodrama.  A  per- 
fect specimen  is  the  product  of  genius.  The  form 
cannot  be  reduced  to  rules.  To  put  the  great  and 
simple  passions  into  the  breasts  of  great  and  simple 
human  beings  as  universal  as  Romeo,  Macbeth, 
Othello,  and  Cordelia,  to  extract  from  the  naturally 
developed  story  or  the  conflict  between  human  be- 
ings true  tragic  action,  to  write  a  play  that  blinds 
with  its  light  and  groans  as  from  a  convulsion  of 
nature — no  one  can  do  this  unless  he  is  a  super- 
human creature,  an  ^schylus,  a  Shakespeare,  a 
Wagner.     For  such  there  is  no  rule. 

It  only  remains  to  express  the  hope  that  our 
poetry  may  come  a  little  nearer  to  the  tragic  in 


TYPES  OF  PEOPLE'S  DRAMA  123 

daily  life,  and  extract  from  it  the  eternal  elements, 
the  mystery,  the  music  of  the  soul.  The  greatest 
of  our  French  dramatists — Balzac,  a  novelist  by  the 
way ! — affords  us  a  splendid  example  of  this.  Our 
modern  life  is  teeming  not  only  with  tragic  beauty, 
but  with  poetically  fantastic  forces,  close  akin  to  the 
legends  of  antiquity.  Says  Gabriele  d'Annunzio: 
"  One  has  only  to  watch  the  confusing  whirlwind  of 
living  things  pass  by,  watch  them  in  that  spirit  of 
fancy  Leonardo  speaks  of  when  he  advises  his  dis- 
ciples to  observe  the  cracks  in  the  wall,  the  ashes  on 
the  hearth,  the  clouds,  the  mud,  and  to  listen  to  the 
bells — to  discover  invcnmoni  mirabilissime  and  in- 
finite cose."  ^  Life  is  for  everyone,  but  how  few 
know  how  to  use  it! 

*  From  the  Ashburnham  MSS.  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci. 


IV 

TYPES  OF  PEOPLE'S  DRAMA 

Historical  Drama 

There  is  another  type  of  drama  which  we  may 
here  consider,  one  in  which  Shakespeare  excelled: 
the  historical  drama.  The  author  of  Henry  IV  and 
Richard  III  created  a  national  epic  covering  English 
history  from  King  John  to  Henry  VIII,  including 
the  Wars  of  the  Roses  and  Agincourt. 

The  historical  play  is  a  new  type  to  us.  Our 
French  dramatists  have  neglected  the  form.  There 
is  a  treasure-house  of  passions  in  our  history,  wait- 
ing to  be  thrown  open  to  our  actors  as  well  as  our 
public,  who  know  so  little  of  it,  and  that  little  so 
badly.  France  has  peVhaps  the  most  heroic  history 
of  any  since  the  days  of  Rome.  Nothing  that  is 
human  is  foreign  to  her.  From  Attila  to  Napoleon, 
from  the  fields  of  Catalauni  to  Waterloo,  from  the 
Crusades  to  the  Convention,  the  destinies  of  the 
world  have  been  fought  for  and  decided  on  her  soil. 
The  heart  of  Europe  beat  within  the  breasts  of  her 
monarchs,  her  thinkers,  and  her  Revolutionary 
leaders.  No  matter  how  great  this  people  has  been 
in  the  realm  of  intellect  it  has  been  preeminently 
great  in  deeds.     Action  is  the  most  sublime  creation 

x>4 


TYPES  OF  PEOPLE'S  DRAMA  125 

of  France,  its  theater,  its  drama,  its  epic.  France 
accomplished  what  other  nations  dreamed.  We 
never  wrote  an  Iliad,  but  we  have  lived  a  dozen ;  the 
Iliad  of  Charlemagne,  of  the  Normans,  of  Godfrey 
of  Boulogne,  of  Saint  Louis,  of  Jeanne  d'Arc,  of 
Henry  IV,  of  the  Marseillaise,  of  the  Corsican  Alex- 
ander, of  the  Commune,  and  even  in  our  own  days, 
of  Africa.  Our  heroes  have  touched  the  heights  as 
often  as  our  poets.  No  Shakespeare  has  celebrated 
their  achievements ;  but  Le  Bearnais  at  the  head  of 
his  band,  or  Danton  on  the  scaffold,  have  spoken 
and  acted  genuine  Shakespeare.  During  her  exist- 
ence France  has  touched  the  heights  of  happiness 
and  sunk  to  the  depths  of  despair;  her  story  is  a  vast 
Human  Comedy,  a  series  of  dramas  where  strong 
wills  command  whole  armies  of  passions.  Each 
epoch  is  a  different  poem,  and  yet  throughout  them 
all  one  is  conscious  of  the  persistence  of  indestruc- 
tible characteristics,  the  destiny  of  a  race :  this  is  the 
grandiose  and  magnificent  unity  of  the  epic. 

All  this  marvelous  material  remains  untouched  by 
French  art;  for  we  really  cannot  count  the  dime- 
novel  dramas  of  Dumas  the  Elder,  the  sensational 
trifles  of  Sardou,  and — L'Aiglon!  The  only  writers 
who,  like  Vitet,^  really  understood  the  historical 
drama,  were  contemplative  souls,  who  never  in- 
tended their  plays  to  be  acted.  "  There  is  some- 
thing false,  something  insulting  to  the  intelligence 
in  the  disproportionate  attention  paid  nowadays  to 

'  Vitet,  Les  Barricades  (May,  1586),  Les  Etats  de  Blois 
(Dec,  1588),  and  La  Mort  de  Henri  HI  (Aug.,  1589). 


126  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

the  historical  anecdote,  the  trifling  incident  of  the 
past  at  the  expense  of  what  is  vital  and  living  in 
history.  It  is  not  our  intention  to  give  the  dilet- 
tante of  this  sort  of  history  a  frigid  miniature,  inter- 
esting as  a  matter  of  fashion  and  local  color;  we 
must  rather  resuscitate  the  forces  of  the  past,  and 
revive  their  motive  power  to  action."  ^  "  The 
drama  of  our  day,"  wrote  Schiller,  "must  combat 
the  torpor,  the  sloth,  the  lack  of  character,  and  intel- 
lectual vulgarity  of  the  day;  it  must  therefore  ex- 
hibit strength  and  character;  it  must  stir  and  exalt 
the  heart.  Pure  beauty  is  limited  to  the  happy 
nations.  •  When  the  poet  addresses  a  generation  of 
sick  or  troubled  people,  he  must  stir  them  with  the 
greatest  emotions."  He  must  offer  them  an  heroic 
art. 

May  the  People's  Theater  create  a  great  historical 
drama  in  France!  The  aristocratic  poets  have 
failed,  in  spite  of  their  efforts.  This  failure  might 
have  been  expected,  for  plays  of  this  sort  demand 
the  spirit  of  a  whole  nation;  without  it  you  cannot 
do  other  than  write  conventional  poems,  of  interest 
only  to  the  erudite  members  of  an  academy. 

No  other  sort  of  play  is  better  adapted  to  the 
Theater  we  are  seeking  to  found.  Without  consid- 
ering the  communicative  emotion  which  is  invariably 
aroused  in  the  people  by  witnessing  actual  events 
rather  than  by  seeing  fictitious  adventures;  without 
considering  the  illusion,  more  nearly  complete  than 
in  any  other  literary  invention;  without  considering 

'  Preface  to  my  play  Le  14  Juillet. 


TYPES  OF  PEOPLE'S  DRAMA  127 

the  magnetic  force  of  example,  and  of  the  action 
which  irresistibly  springs  from  action,  historical 
drama  enjoys  the  inestimable  advantage  of  shaping 
the  conscience  and  the  intelligence  of  the  people. 

The  majority  of  those  who  take  it  upon  them- 
selves to  educate  the  people  demand  that  the  drama 
shall  offer  a  cut-and-dried  solution  to  the  problems 
of  the  day.  Leaving  aside  the  fact  that  some  prob- 
lems cannot  be  solved  at  present,  and  that  it  would 
be  most  unwise  to  try  to  hasten  their  solution,  there 
is  nothing  more  fatal  to  education  than  to  impose 
ready-made  formulas  on  the  people.  What  really 
matters  is  the  development  of  their  minds  through 
the  intelligence,  and  the  training  of  the  powers  of 
observation.  History  will  teach  them  to  come  out 
of  themselves,  and  observe  the  souls  of  others — 
friends  and  enemies  alike.  They  will  once  more 
find  themselves  in  the  past,  where  characters  are 
much  the  same  as  they  are  now,  only  different  in 
appearance,  with  the  same  vices  and  weakness  as 
themselves;  and  these  they  can  recognize  and  pos- 
sibly guard  against.  The  confession  of  their  own 
faults  will  perhaps  induce  them  to  be  lenient  toward 
others.  The  perpetual  train  of  varying  ideas,  cus- 
toms, and  prejudices  set  before  them  may  perhaps 
show  them  that  their  own  ideas,  customs,  and  preju- 
dices are  not  the  center  round  which  the  world 
revolves,  and  that  justice  and  reason  cannot  be 
founded  upon  a  few  pharisaical  rules;  to  contem- 
plate transitory  things,  and  not  mistake  them  for 
eternal. 


128  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

But  this  knowledge  of  the  past  does  more  than 
instil  lessons  of  tolerance :  such  indulgent  skepticism 
is  but  the  first  step.  The  spectacle  of  change  only- 
increases  the  solidity  of  what  remains  unchangeable. 
It  is  one  of  the  chief  assets  of  history  that  it  sepa- 
rates the  rock  from  the  sands  that  cover  it.  In 
place  of  the  blind  instinct  of  the  mob  it  furnishes 
the  moral  unity  of  the  family,  cemented  by  the  triple 
bond  of  blood,  thought,  and  trials  shared.  It  need 
not  of  necessity  awaken  fanatic  chauvinism,  but 
only  a  spirit  of  fraternal  solidarity  among  all  the 
men  of  one  nation.  Let  each  individual  realize  the 
links  binding  him  to  the  community,  and  may  his 
life  become  richer  from  his  knowledge  of  the  lives 
that  have  been  and  are  to  be.  With  such  a  con- 
science, he  will  see  more  urgent  reasons  for  action.^ 
The  spirit  which  is  evoked  out  of  past  centuries  is 
for  the  centuries  to  come.  If  we  would  create 
strong  souls,  let  us  nourish  them  with  the  strength 
of  the  whole  world. 

The  world — for  the  nation  alone  is  not  enough. 
A  hundred  years  ago  the  enlightened  Schiller  said : 
"  I  write  as  a  citizen  of  the  world.  Early  in  life  I 
exchanged  my  fatherland  for  humanity."  ^  Almost 
a  century  ago,  the  serene  Goethe  said :  "  National 
literature  means  very  little  today :  world  literature  is 
at  hand,  and  each  one  must  labor  to  make  it  an  ac- 

*  "  History  is  to  the  people  what  memory  is  to  individuals : 
the  thread  connecting  our  yesterday  with  our  today,  forming 
the  basis  of  our  very  existence  and,  through  experience,  con- 
stituting the  means  of  all  perfection,"    Lamartine,  in  1864. 

'  1783. 


TYPES  OF  PEOPLE'S  DRAMA  129 

complished  fact."  ^  And  he  added :  "  If  I  am  not 
mistaken,  the  French  will  reap  the  greatest  benefit 
from  the  movement." 

Then  let  us  realize  his  prophecy!  Let  us  lead 
back  the  French  to  their  own  history,  which  is  the 
source  of  a  people's  art;  but  let  us  take  care  not  to 
exclude  the  historic  legends  of  other  peoples.  Un- 
doubtedly, our  own  history  lies  nearer  our  hearts, 
and  our  first  duty  is  to  develop  it.  But  the  great 
events  and  deeds  of  all  the  nations  must  find  a  place 
on  our  stage.  As  Cloots  and  Thomas  Paine  were 
elected  members  of  the  Convention;  as  Schiller, 
Klopstock,  Washington,  Priestley,  Bentham,  Pesta- 
lozzi,  and  Kosciusko  were  made  French  citizens 
through  Danton's  decree — let  the  heroes  of  the 
world  become  our  heroes  likewise.  May  France  be 
their  second  fatherland,  especially  for  the  people's 
heroes.  The  People's  Theater  shall  be  open  to 
everyone  who  is  of  or  for  the  people.  Let  us  con- 
struct in  Paris  an  epic  of  all  Europe. 

'  Goethe  to  Eckermann,  Jan.  31,  1827.  And  elsewhere  in  the 
Conversations  he  says :  "  Ampere  stands  indeed  so  high  in 
culture  that  the  national  prejudices,  apprehensions,  and  nar- 
row-mindedness of  many  of  his  countrymen  lie  far  behind 
him ;  and  in  mind  he  is  far  more  a  citizen  of  the  world  than 
a  citizen  of  Paris.  But  I  see  a  time  coming  when  there  will 
be  thousands  in  France  who  think  like  him."     (May  4,  1827.) 

"  It  is  evident,  and  has  been  for  a  long  time,  that  the 
greatest  geniuses  of  all  nations  have  kept  all  of  humanity  be- 
fore their  eyes.  You  will  invariably  perceive  this  general 
idea  standing  out  above  national  ideas  and  the  peculiarities  of 
the  writer.  .  .  .  The  most  beautiful  works  are  those  which 
belong  to  all  mankind."  (In  Notes  and  Fragments,  apropos 
of  Carlyle's  translation  of  German  novels,  1827.) 


130  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

We  must  also  be  careful  not  to  remain  merely  the 
singers  of  the  past.  The  new  energy  we  shall  gen- 
erate must  not  be  allowed  to  stand  idle.  Action 
must  spring  from  the  spectacle  of  action.  Once  we 
have  gathered  our  forces  and  become  conscious  of 
our  power,  let  us  march  forward !  Armed  with  all 
the  greatness  of  the  past,  we  shall  strive  to  create 
the  new  man,  a  man  of  stalwart  moral  fiber  and 
of  truth.  The  story  of  past  heroism,  such  as  I  have 
described  it,  is  not  a  lantern  hung  from  the  rear 
end  of  a  train,  casting  an  uncertain  light  over  the 
road  that  has  been  traveled;  it  is  a  lighthouse  in 
the  night,  marking  the  position  of  the  ship  in  the 
ocean,  whence  it  comes  and  whither  it  is  going. 
Separated  from  the  past,  the  present  has  no  mean- 
ing, just  as  the  past  is  without  significance  apart 
from  the  present.  Both  past  and  present  must  unite 
to  give  meaning  to  the  greatest  thing  of  all:  Life. 
The  life  of  all  time  must  be  consolidated  into  a 
unified  whole,  one  being  with  a  thousand  bodies, 
and  strive  from  every  direction  to  attack  the  uni- 
verse, which  some  day  it  will  dominate. 


OTHER  TYPES  OF  PEOPLE'S  DRAMA 

The  Social  Play 

Rustic  Drama 

Legends  and  Tales 

The  Circus 

What  We  Might  Have  in  a  People  s  Theater 

I  HAVE  thus  insisted  upon  the  historical  drama  be- 
cause I  confess  to  an  especial  fondness  for  it,  and 
why  should  I  not  speak  of  what  I  know  best  ?  Be- 
sides, it  was  necessary  to  defend  not  the  form  itself 
(because  we  have  no  historical  plays  in  France)  but 
the  disrepute  into  which  some  of  the  Romantics  have 
thrown  it.  The  historical  drama  is  only  one  field 
open  to  our  People's  Theater.  Let  us  open  the  way 
to  others. 

First  among  these  is  the  social  drama,  with  which 
a  generation  of  vigorous  dramatists  have  been  so 
busily  concerned.  Following  in  the  footsteps  of 
Ibsen,  Bjornson,  and  Llauptmann,  poets  of  the 
north,  Jean  Jullien,  Descaves,  Mirbeau,  Ancey,  Her- 
vieu,  Brieux,  P'ranqois  de  Curel,  and  Emile  Fabre 
have  given  sufiicient  proof  of  the  vitality  of  this 
type  of  drama,  which  is  of  all  types  the  most  needed 

131 


132  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

nowadays,  for  it  is  rooted  in  the  suffering,  the  doubt, 
and  the  aspirations  of  the  present  generation.  It 
goes  hand-in-hand  with  actual  deeds.  There  are 
those  who  criticize  it  for  this  very  reason,  claiming 
that  it  is  no  longer  disinterested  art.  But  I  admire 
it  because  it  is  not,  and  I  have  furnished  reasons 
for  my  preference.  Happy  is  the  age  of  quiet, 
when  quiet  works  may  be  written!  But  when  the 
age  is  a  troubled  one,  and  the  nation  is  in  the  throes 
of  struggle,  it  is  the  duty  of  art  to  struggle  with  it, 
inspiring  and  guiding  it,  protecting  it,  and  combating 
prejudice.  I  have  heard  people  complain  of  the 
violent  excesses  into  which  art  will  fall  if  it  takes 
this  road.  This  is  not  the  fault  of  art,  but  of  the 
wrongs  which  it  will  have  exposed,  which  must  be 
done  away  with.  It  is  not  the  purpose  of  art  to 
reconcile  and  pacify,  but  to  intensify  life,  render  it 
stronger,  greater,  and  better.  Art  is  the  enemy  of 
all  the  enemies  of  life.  If  love  and  peace  are  its 
aim,  there  are  times  none  the  less  when  hatred  is 
in  order.  "  Hatred  is  a  good  thing,"  once  remarked 
a  workingman  of  the  Faubourg  Saint-Antoine  to  a 
lecturer  who  had  been  bursting  his  lungs  trying  to 
prove  that  all  hatred  is  bad.  "  Hatred  is  just,  for 
it  rallies  the  oppressed  to  give  battle  against  the  op- 
pressor. When  I  see  a  man  domineering  over  other 
men,  my  indignation  is  aroused,  and  I  hate  him.  I 
hate  him,  and  I  feel  that  my  hatred  is  right."  He 
who  does  not  hate  evil  cannot  love  good,  and  he 
who  can  look  at  injustice  without  attempting  to  rec- 
tify it  is  neither  a  true  artist  nor  a  true  man.     The 


OTHER  TYPES  OF  PEOPLE'S  DRAMA      133 

gentlest  of  the  poets,  Schiller,  he  who  took  the  most 
serene  view  of  his  own  art,  did  not  hesitate  to  plunge 
into  the  fray,  and  set  himself  "  the  task  of  attacking 
vice,  and  wreaking  vengeance  upon  the  enemies  of 
religion,  morality,  and  the  social  order."  ^  But  in 
art  it  is  not  necessary  to  combat  evil  with  evil,  but 
with  light.  The  evil  that  is  seen  face  to  face,  the 
evil  that  is  conscious  of  being  seen,  is  more  than 
half  conquered.  It  is  the  function  of  the  social 
drama  to  throw  the  imperious  power  of  reason  into 
the  uncertain  scales. 

There  are  many  other  types  of  drama  which  up 
to  the  present  have  been  seldom  seen  in  our  theaters. 
The  rural  drama,  the  poem  of  Earth,  impregnated 
with  the  odor  of  the  fields  and  overflowing  with 
peasant  humor  and  rich  language,  is  a  precious  mine. 
It  preserves  what  is  poetic  in  the  life  of  the  small 
communities  and  records  for  posterity  their  vanish- 
ing individuality.  Pouvillon,  in  certain  of  his  pas- 
toral tragedies;  Pottecher  in  his  comedies  of  the 
Vosges  country;  the  Swiss  Rene  Morax  in  his  vig- 
orous and  quietly  sentimental  plays  of  the  Var  dis- 
trict— these  dramatists  furnish  us  with  splendid 
examples  of  this  type  of  play.  And  finally  come 
the  greatest  of  these  poets,  Mistral,  the  Provengal 
Homer,  whose  language  is  as  harmonious  as  his 
ancient  soul. 

We  must  likewise  make  use  of  the  rich  Celtic 
treasure  lying  hidden  in  our  soil,  and  bring  to  life 
once  more  the  forgotten  legends  and  popular  tales. 

*  Preface  to  Die  Rdubcr,  1781. 


134  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

Our  plains  and  woods  were  once  peopled:  there  is 
no  part  of  our  land  without  its  collections  of  fabu- 
lous romances,  its  beautiful  and  quaintly  humorous 
stories.  The  people  of  the  large  cities  have  long 
since  broken  with  the  past;  they  no  longer  belong  to 
the  great  family;  but  the  country  people  are  for  the 
most  part  far  different.  You  will  find  among  them 
the  purest  types  of  long  ago,  such  as  are  sculptured 
on  the  portals  of  Gothic  churches.  Nor  is  the  re- 
semblance confined  to  externals:  the  races  of  today 
are  morally  close  akin  to  those  of  past  ages,  more 
so  than  you  would  think.  Who  knows  in  how  many 
of  their  souls  there  still  exists  the  forest  of  the 
fairies,  of  the  Sleeping  Beauty,  of  Lancelot  and 
Guinevere,  of  Tristan  and  Iseult;  of  Puss  in  Boots, 
of  Tom  Thumb  and  the  Four  Sons  of  Aymon;  and 
the  echo  of  Roland's  horn  ?  Let  us  revive  the  stories 
of  the  past.  Who,  be  he  old  or  young,  does  not 
take  pleasure  in  hearing  them  ?  We  still  remember 
the  stories  of  our  youth  and  think  regretfully  of  the 
time  when  we  listened  to  them.  But  they  are  ever 
alive.  We  have  been  silently  awaiting  for  eight 
centuries — ever  since  Marie  de  France — the  return 
of  the  Blue  Bird. 

Legendary  material  in  drama  requires  the  aid  of 
music.  Music  indeed  has  a  most  important  part  to 
play  in  poetic  and  rustic  drama.  L'Arlesienne  is 
the  finest  example.  We  may  say  that  music  has  not 
yet  received  the  treatment  in  our  drama  which  it 
deserves.  The  poets  have  dispensed  with  it,  partly 
through  sheer  ignorance,  and  partly  through  fear 


OTHER  TYPES  OF  PEOPLE'S  DRAMA      135' 

and  jealousy.  Music  and  poetry  are  two  wings  of 
the  lyric  drama.  He  who  neglects  either,  can  fly 
only  with  great  difficulty. 

And  why  relegate  pantomime,  which  is  pure  ac- 
tion, to  the  circus?  The  spectacle  of  action  is  a 
powerful  spring  to  action,  good  as  well  as  evil;  it  is 
absurd  to  neglect  it.  The  circus  at  Rome  kept  alive 
the  pleasure  derived  from  action — a  pleasure  we 
know  little  about  nowadays,  but  one  which  is  a 
fundamental  need  of  all  great  nations.  The  Greeks 
cultivated  bodily  as  well  as  mental  exercise.  Let  us 
give  the  body  its  proper  place  in  art.  Our  Theater 
must  be  a  Theater  of  men,  and  not  merely  of 
writers. 

How  many  are  the  new  types  of  drama  which 
might  flourish  in  our  People's  Theater !  But  it 
would  be  a  vain  task  to  describe  the  shadows  of 
the  future.^      Nothing  counts  but  actual  achieve- 

*  Just  a  word  on  another  type  of  drama  which  is  dead  in 
the  France  of  today:  the  Improvised  Comedy.  In  the  prov- 
inces, where  the  mind  is  quicker  and  the  spirit  wider  awake, 
it  is  not  necessary  that  the  plays  be  written  down  in  their 
entirety.  It  might  even  be  well  to  allow  the  fancy  a  little 
free  play,  and  let  the  people  act  at  their  ease  round  a  given 
theme  or  story.  This  is  what  the  Italians  do  in  their  Com- 
viedia  dell'  arte,  which  is  still  in  existence  among  the  peasants. 
To  those  who  consider  improvisation  outside  the  province  of 
art,  let  me  quote  not  only  Michelet — who  declares  that  "it 
would  be  a  pity  to  let  the  Southerners  have  complete  texts, 
because  a  theme  alone  suffices  " — but  Goethe,  who  remarked 
of  H^allcnsteins  Lager  that  "this  sort  of  play  demands  the 
introduction  of  something  new  at  every  performance,  in  order 
to  hold  the  attention  of  the  spectators."  (Goethe  to  Schiller, 
Oct.  5,  I79«) 


136  THE  PEOPLE'S  THEATER 

ment,  and  it  is  not  yet  time  for  us  to  enter  a  new 
continent.  Each  may  start  forth  on  his  quest;  he 
is  sure  to  return  laden  with  booty.  Let  us  dare  to 
raise  art  to  the  height  of  that  tragedy  which  is  now 
being  acted  in  the  world  at  large.  The  words  of 
Schiller  on  the  occasion  of  the  first  performance  of 
Wallensfeins  Lager  (October,  1798)^  may  well  be 
our  guide  and  inspiration : 

"  The  new  era  which  opens  for  us  today  will 
encourage  the  poet  to  leave  the  beaten  path  of  yes- 
terday, and  transport  you  out  of  your  everyday 
existence  up  to  a  higher,  a  nobler  stage,  not  perhaps 
unworthy  of  this  sublime  hour  when  our  efforts  are 
all  bent  toward  the  future.  Only  a  great  subject  is 
capable  of  stirring  mankind  to  the  depths.  The 
mind,  if  fettered  and  cramped,  degenerates,  but  man 
advances  as  his  horizon  widens.  And  now,  at 
the  end  of  this  century,  when  reality  itself  becomes 
poetry,  when  we  are  witnesses  of  gigantic  souls 
striving  onward  toward  a  great  prize,  when  men 
fight  for  the  highest  interests  of  humanity,  liberty, 
and  power — now,  I  say,  the  art  of  the  drama  may 
evoke  the  shades  of  the  past  in  order  to  take  flight 
to  more  distant  summits.  It  can  do  this,  and  it 
will  unless  it  rests  content  to  be  an  object  of  shame 
before  the  eyes  of  the  whole  world." 

We  must  not  complain  of  our  destiny.  Fate  has 
given  us  plenty  to  do.  Ours  is  a  happy  age,  for  we 
have  great  tasks  to  accomplish.      Happy  the  man 

^  See  the  magnificent  appeal  of  Mazzini  To  the  Poets  of  the 
jgth  Century  {Ai  poeti  del  secolo  XIX,  1832). 


OTHER  TYPES  OF  PEOPLE'S  DRAMA      137 

who  succumbs  beneath  the  weight  of  so  glorious  a 
fatigue !  This  is  far  better  than  succumbing  to  the 
boredom  of  doing  nothing  at  all,  or  sadly  contem- 
plating the  work  of  others.  Let  us  not  say  what 
the  melancholy  author  of  the  Caractercs  [La 
Bruyere]  was  forced  to  say  in  his  worn-out  age: 
"  Everything  has  been  said,  and  we  have  come  too 
late."  Nothing  has  been  said  of  our  new  society. 
Everything  waits  to  be  said.  Everything  waits  to 
be  done.     To  work! 


THE  END 


INDEX 


Adam,  Adolphe,  43,  55,  85 
Adaptations   of   Shakespeare, 

39.  40 
yEschylus,  57,  66,  122 
Affaire  Grisel,  L',  96 
Aicard,  Jean,  85 
Aiglon,  L' ,  31,  125 
Ajalbert,  95 
Alcestis,  85 
Ambigu  Theater,  119 
Ampere,  129 
Ancey,  Georges,  91,  131 
Andromaqtie.  17,  18,  19,  50,  51 
Anc  de  Buridan,  L' ,  vi 
Annunzio,  G.  d',  123 
Antigone,  85 
Antony-Real,  85 
Anzengruber,  41,  42,  81 
Aristophanes,  57 
Arlesicnne,  L' ,  50,  134 
Art  du   Theatre,  L' ,  85 
Ashburnham  MSS.,  123 
Athalie,  20,  21,  85 
Attila,  124 

Au-dessus  dc  la  Melee,  iii,  iv 
Aufgeregten,  Die,  70 
Augier,  Emile,  34,  91 
Au  Theatre  d'Orange,  85 
Author's    Introduction    (The 

People  and  the  Theater),  3 


B 

Balzac,  123 
Barere,  71.  74,  75 
Barricades,  Les,  125 
Bartct,  Mme.,  55 
Ba-ta-clan,  13,  17,  50 


Bauer,  Henri,  87 
Bayreuth  Theater,  107 
Beaulieu,    Henri,    94,   95,   96, 

97 
Beaumarchais,  91 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  82 
Beauxhostes,  C.  de,  85 
Bechon,  Alphonse,  82 
Beethoven,  42,  43,  69 
Bentham,  129 
Berenice,  54,  55 
Bernard,  Tristan,  91 
Bernhardt,  Sarah,  31 
Bernheim,  Adrien,  17,  43,  49, 

53.  54,  81,  88,  89 
Berny,  E.,  92,  93 
Beyond  Human  Power,  82 
Beze.  Theodore  de,  82 
Billaud-Varenne,  71,  75 
Bjornson,  82,  131 
Blanchette,  91 
Boissy  d'Anglas,  71 ;  quoted, 

72, 
Boubouroche,  97 
Bouchor,     Maurice,     39,     45, 

87 
Bouflfes-du-Nord,  50 
Boule  de  Suif,  93 
Besnard,  Lucien,  87,  96 
Bouquier,  71,  72 
Bourdon,  Georges,  87,  90,  99; 

quoted  on  stage  mechanics, 

108,  109 
Bourgeois  Drama,  The,  34-37 
Bourgeois    gentilhomme,    Le, 

\2 

Braut  von  Messina,  Die,  115 
Bribeu  Socialiste,  etc.,  Le,  82 
Brieux,  91,  96,  131 
Brutus,  72 
Burgcrgeneral,  Der,  70 


139 


I40 


INDEX 


Cage,  La,  91 

Cahiers  de  la  Quinsaine,  86 

Caius  Gracchus,  72 

Calderon,  24,  38,  39,  81 

Capus,  Alfred,  91,  no 

Caracteres,  Les,  137 

Carlyle,  129 

Carnot,  46 

Carnot   (of  the  Revolution), 

71,  74,  75. 
Causeries  du  Lundi,  46 
Cennini,  Cennino,  7 
Chalet,  Le,  85 
Charlemagne,  125 
Charles  IX,  68 
Charles  the  Bold,  82 
Chenier,  M.-J.,  68,  71,  72 
Cherubini,  79 
Cid,  Lc,  26 
Cinna,  22,  25 
Citharis,  85 
Clark,  Barrett  H.,  viii 
Classic   Tragedy,   16-27 
Cloitre,  Le,  96 
Cloots,  72,  129 
Colas  Brugnon,  vi 
Collot  d'Herbois,  71,  74,  75 
Combes,  Maitre,  13 
Comedie-franqaise,  13,  50,  51, 

53,  54,  55,  56,  74,  QO,  92 
Comedies,     Modern     French, 

36,  37 

Concert  Europeen,  50 

Conservatoire,  92 

Contes  philosophiqucs,  vi 

Convention,  The,  71 

Conversations  with  Ecker- 
mann  (Goethe),  70 

Cooper,  M.,  55 

Cooperation  des  idees,  12,  86, 
90,  92 

Corneille,  21,  22,  23,  24,  25,  26, 
27,  91 

Corneille,  Pierre  (19th  cen- 
tury), 84 

Courteline,  G.,  91,  93,  96 

Couthon,  71,  74,  75 


Couyba,  M.,  51,  89 
Crainquebille,  95 
Critics,  snobbishness  of,  30 
Croisset,  F.  de,  91 
Crouzet,  Paul,  46 
Curel,    Francois    de,    36,    91, 
131 

D 

Dante,  57 

Danton,  by  Rolland,  v,  89,  93, 

94,  96 
Danton,  71,   125 ;  his   decree, 

129 
Dargel,  Henri,  86,  91 
Darty,  Mile.,  50 
Daudet,  93 
David,  71,  72,  78 
Dawn,  82 

Decori,  Felix,  17,  18 
Dehelly,  56 
Deherme,  M.,  86 
Dejanire,  85 
Depit  ainoureux ,  Le,  97 
Despois,  Eugene,  79 
Destree,  Jules,  82 
Destruction  de  la  Ligiie,  La, 

67 
Descaves,  Lucien,  87,  90,  91, 

Deuxieme    entretien    sur    le 

Fils  naturel,  65 
Diable    marchant   de   goutte, 

Le,  83 
Dickens,  46 
Diderot,  19,  34,  63,  64;  quoted, 

65,  66,  67,  115 
Discours    de    la    liberie    du 

theatre,  quoted,  68,  69 
Discours     pour     I'ouverture 

d'un  theatre  populaire,  93 
Don  Carlos,  69 
Dorchain,  A.,  54 
Dramatische  Vereine,  82 
Drames    de    la    jeunesse    de 

Schiller,  Les,  69 
Duchess  of  Burgundy,  il 
Dumas,  fils,  34,  81 


INDEX 


141 


Dumas,  pere.  29,  30,  31,  125 
Duruy,  Victor,  46 


Frcic  Volksbiihnc,  of  Vienna, 

103 
Fugere,  Mile.,  50 


Eckermann,  70,  129 

Eekhoud.  Georges,  82 

Eg  111  0)1 1,  70 

Ehrhard.  Auguste,  42 

Emancipation  (Society),  86 

Enclos  group,  84 

Encyclopedists,  29 

Enemy  of  the  People,  An,  81 

Ennery,  d',  no 

Epidemic,  L',  gi 

Erasmus,  vi 

Erinna,  pretressc  d'Hcsus,  84 

Essais  sur  la  musique,  117 

Etudiant,  L',  80 

Etats  de  Blois,  Les,  125 

Eumenides,  66 


Fabre  d'Eglantine,  72 

Fabre,  Emile,  93,  95,  131 

Faguet,  Emile,  18,  19,  57 

Failieres,  A.,  51 

Faure,  Gabriel,  85 

Femmcs  savant cs,  Les,  13 

Fenelon,  7 

Festival  of  the  Supreme  Be- 
ing, 77 

Fiesco,  69 

Fille  Elisa,  La,  95,  97 

Fleck  auf  dcr  Ehr!,  Der, 
81 

Flers,  Robert  de,  87 

Florian,  71 

Foreign  Plays  [Greek  Drama, 
etc.],  38-44 

Fouquier-Tinville,  94 

Fourcade,  71 

Fourcroi.  72 

Fourteenth  of  July,  The,  v, 
vii,  89;  Preface  quoted,  126 

France,  Anatole,  87,  95 


Gazette  des  tribunaux,  17 

Geffroy,  Gustave,  87,  90 

Georges  Dandin,  12 

Gerstenberg,  66 

Giotto,  7 

Gluck,  7,  85 

Godfrey  of  Boulogne,  125 

Goethe,  42,  58,  66;  quoted  on 
dramatic  poet,  70;  quoted 
to  Schiller,  107;  quoted  to 
Eckermann,  128,  129,  135; 
quoted  to  Schiller,  135 

Goncourts,  The,  95 

Good  Hope,  The,  95 

Gorky,  Maxim,  41 

Gossec,  78 

Gosset,  107 

Greek  plays,  38;  Rousseau  on, 
64,  118 

Grenet-Dancourt,  91 

Gretry,  quoted  on  the  theater, 
III,  112,  113 

Grevc,  La,  86,  91 

Guillaume  Tell,  72 

Guillaiime  Tell  (in  Switzer- 
land, 15th  century),  82 

H 

Hamlet,  57,  119 
Hauptmann,  41,  8r,  95,  131 
Hebertistes,  77 
Heijcrmans,  Hermann,  95 
Henri  IV,  125 
Henry  IV,  124 
Herder,  66 ;  quoted,  66 
Herold,  F.,  85 
Hcrvieu,  131 

Histoire  littcraire  dc  la  Con- 
vention. 79 
Honor,  96,  97 
Horace,  26,  27,  50,  85,  92 


142 


INDEX 


Hugo,  Victor,  30,  31,  91 
Hugues,  Jean,  86,  91 


Ibsen,  81,  82,  131 
Iliad,  The,  125 
Improvised  Comedy,  135 
In  Tyrannos,  69 
Iphigenie,  85 
Iphigenie  en  Tauride,  85 


Jean-Christophe,  iv 

Jean  Hennuycr,  67 

Jeanne  d'Arc,  67,  68,  80,  125 

Joseph,  85 

Journal  des  Debats,  18,  19 

Journal  de  Geneve,  82 

Juares,  A.,  89 

Jubin,     Georges,    quoted    on 

melodrama,    120,    121 
Jullien,  Jean,  S,7,  90,  91,  93, 

94,  131 

K 

King  Lear,  119 
Kleist,  Heinrich  von,  40 
Klopstock,  129 
Kontz,  Albert,  69 
Kosciusko,  129 


Labiche,  91 

La  Bruyere,  137 

Lacour,  Leopold,  85 

Lakanal,  71,  iii 

Lamartine,  quoted  on  history, 

128 
Lanson,  Gustave,  24 
Larochelle,  M.,  54 
Larroumet,  Gustave,  17,  51 
Le  Braz,  Anatole,  84 
Lectures  and  readings,  46,  47 
Lectures   publiques   du    Soir, 

46 


Legende   de   Chamhrille,   La, 

84 
Legende  du  coeur,  La,  85 
Le  Goffic,  84 
Lemaitre,  Jules,  32 
Leonardo  da  Vinci,  123 
Lesueur,  79 
Lettre  sur  les  spectacles  {Let- 

tre     a     d'Alembert),     63; 

quoted,  64 
Leygues,  Minister,  88,  89 
Liber te,  91 
Lindet,  71,  74,  75 
Litterature     et     Conferences 

populaires,  46 
Loewenfeld,  Herr,  81,  102 
Lope  de  Vega,  38,  39 
Lorrain,  Jean,  85 
Louis  XIII,  26 
Louis  XIV,  II 
Loups,  Les,  91 
Loux-Parassac,  Emile,  84 
Lully,  II 
Lumet,  Louis,  84,  87,  89 

M 

Macbeth,  39,  119 

Madame  Sans-Gene,  93,  94 

Maggi  festivals,  83 

Magre,  Maurice,  85 

Mahomet,  68 

Maison  du  peuple,  81,  107 

Maitre,  Le,  91,  93 

Malade  imaginaire,  Le,  12,  50, 

55,  56 
Mante  Sisters,  50 
Mariage  force,  Le,  12 
Marie  de  France,  134 
Marie  Tudor,  28 
Marivaux,  91 
Maron,  E.,  79 
Marseillaise,  La,  79,  125 
Marsolleau,  91 
Master  Builder,  The,  82 
Mathieu,  72 
Maupassant,  93 
Mauvais  bergers,  Les,  91,  95 
Max,  Charles,  84 


INDEX 


143 


Mazzini,  136 

Medecin  malgre  lui,  Le,  12,  83 
Mehul,  79,  §5 
Meilhac,  91 
Meistcrsinger,  Die,  42 
Mercier,  66 ;  quoted,  67,  70 
Metternich,  31 
Meyerbeer,  43,  55 
Michelangelo,  7 
Michelet,  63,   79;   quoted  on 
people's  theater,  80,  81,  108, 

135 
Midsummer   Night  s   Dream, 

A,  119 
Mirabeau,  71 

Mirbeau,  O.,  87,  90,  91,  93,  95- 
Misanthrope,  Le,   13,   50,   53, 

54 
Mistral,  85,  I33 
Moliere,   11-15,  34,  53,  54,  9i 
Monsieur  Badin,  93 
Montaigne,  vi 
Morax,     Rene,     quoted,     92, 

133 
Moreas,  85 
Morel,   Eugene,   88,   93,    100, 

loi,  107 
Moreno,  Mile.,  50 
Mart  dc  Henri  III,  La,  125 
Mort  de  Louis  XI,  La,  67 
Mounet-Sully,  38,  85 
M ouvement  socialiste,  Le,  82 
Mouzin,  A.,  85 
Music  in  France,  43 
Musset,  A,  de,  12,  28,  91 


N 


Napoleon,  25,  94,  124 

National  theaters,  72,  74 

Naturalism,  29 

New  Theater,  The,  99-117 

Nicomedc,  26,  27 

Notes     and     Fragments     of 

Goethe,  129 
Nozierc,  56 
Nouveau  Theatre,  89 
Nouvcl  cssai  sur  I'art  drama- 

tique,  67,  69 


Nouvel  examen  dc  la  Trage- 

die  frangaise,  67 
Nouvcllc  idole.  La,  91 

O 

Ode  to  Joy  (Schiller),  70 
Odeon,  51,  52,  55,  56 
CEdipe  et  le  Sphinx,  85 
(Edipus  the  King,  38,  85,  119 
CEuvre    des    Trent e    ans    de 

Theatre,  5,  12,  49,  SO,  51,  52, 

109 
Opera,  51,  75 
Orcsteia,  The,  119 
Orphce,  85 
Ofhon,  25 
Ott,  Arnold,  82 


Pailleron,  91 
Paine,  Thomas,  129 
Paradoxe    sur    le    comedien, 

Le,  6s 
Parysatis,  85 
Passion    play     (Oberammer- 

gau),  83,  115 
Paulette,  Mile.,  50 
Payan,  Joseph,  76,  78 
Peiadan,  J.,  85 
People's  festivals,  64,  72;  in 

Switzerland,    no,   in,   114, 

115 

People's  Theater,  iv,  5,  7,  10, 
24,  30,  32,  35,  42,  45,  46,  50, 
54,  58,  59,  63,  74,  75,  79,  83, 
84,  8s,  86,  88,  90,  92.  99,  loi, 
102,  103,  104,  105,  106,  108, 
no,  ni,  112,  113,  120,  126, 
129,  130 

People's  Theater  of  Bussang, 
109 

People's  Theater,  The,  by 
Rolland,  iv,  v 

People's  Universities,  12,  13, 
56,  86,  93 

Pestaiozzi,  129 

Petit  Journal,  Le,  18 


144 


INDEX 


Petite  Republigue,  La,  So 
Phedre,  20,  85 
Philaster,  82 
Philippe  II,  67 
Philippe,  Ch.-L.,  84. 
Phceiiician  Women,  The,  85 
Plan  general,  etc.,  quoted,  72, 

73 
Plato,  78 

Plays  of  the  Past,  etc.,  45-48 
Polin,  50,  55 
Ponsard,  91 

Portefeuille,  Le,  91,  93 
Pottecher,  M.,  27,  57,  83,  87, 

91,  116,  133 
Pouvillon,  E.,  133 
Pozver  of  Darkness,  The,  41, 

81,  95,  104.,.     , 
Precieuses   ridicules,   Les,   85 
Precursors    of    the    People's 

Theater,  63 
Preoccupations  intellectuelles, 

etc.,  Les,  82 
Present  et  I'avenir,  Le,  85 
Priestley,  129 
Prieur,  71,  74 
Prin.?    Friedrich    von    Hom- 

hurg,  40 
Prod'homme,  J.-G.,  84 
Projet  de  theatres  populaires, 

88,  100 
Prometheus,  85 
Provinciales,  Les,  14 

Q 

Quelques  idees,  etc.,  quoted, 
73,74 

R 

Rabouilleuse,  La,  93 
Racine,  17,  21,  22,  27,  54,  55, 

91 
Raimund,  41 
Riiuber,    Die,    69;     Preface 

quoted,  133 
Regnard,  91 
Reine  Jeanne,  La,  85 
Repas  du  Lion,  Le,  36 


Revolution,   French,   viii,   29, 

41,  63,  70,  78,  79,  81 
Revue  bleue,  90,  99 

Revue  d'art  dramatique,  viii, 

42,  57,  81,  86,  87,  88,  89,  92, 
93,  120 

Revue  des  Deux  Mondes,  27, 

116 
Revue  de  Paris,  85 
Revue  universelle.  La,  86 
Richard  III,  124 
Richelieu,  53 
Ritt,  M.,  51 
Robe  rouge.  La,  96,  97 
Robespierre,    71,    75,    78,    79; 

speech  quoted,  79 
Rodenbach,  Georges,  3 
Rolland,  Remain,  iii,  iv,  v,  vii, 

viii,  87,  88,  91,  96 
Roman    Theater   of    Orange, 

Romantic  Drama,  The,  28-33 
Romanticism,  German,  29 
Romme,  72 

Rostand,  Edmond,  31,  32,  91 
Rousseau,  63,  64,  67,  69 
Ruff,  82 


Sachs,  Hans,  43 
Saint-Just,  71,  74,  78,  79 
Saint-Pierre,      B.      de,      67 ; 

quoted  on  historical  drama, 

68 
Saint-Saens,  C.,  85 
Saint-Simon,  11 
Sainte-Croix,  C.  de,  50,  87,  90 
Sainte-Beuve,  46 
Salle    Humbert    de    Romans, 

50 
Salle   Huyghens,    50,    55,    56, 

no 
Salle  Wagram,  50,  no 
Samaritaine,  La,  31 
Sapho,  93 
Sardou,  93,  125 
Schiller,    38,    40,    42,    69,    82, 

107,  IIS;  quoted  on  drama, 


INDEX 


145 


126;  quoted,  128,  129,  133, 
135,  136 

Schiller  Theater,  81,  95,  102 

Schure,  Edouard,  87 

Sertorius,  25 

Shakespeare,  7.  23,  38,  39,  40, 
57,  66,  67,  68,  81  119,  120, 
122,  125 

Silvain,  56 

Sophocles,  3S.  39,  85,  120 

Souvestre,  Emile,  46 

Spectacles,  quoted,  76 

Spectacles,  people's,  of  Swit- 
zerland, 82 

Stocker,  82 

Sturm  und  Drangperiode,  66 

Sudermann,  96 


Talleyrand,  71 

Talma,  26 

Taniihduser,  82 

Tartufe,  13,  M,  5o,  51,  59 

Tearful  Comedy,  34 

Temps,    Le,    14,    17,    54,    56, 

81 
Temps  viendra,  Le,  vii 
Theatre    du    pcuple,    of     M. 

Beaulieu,  90,  94 
Theatre    du    pcuple,    Le,    by 

Pottecher,  27,  83,  116 
Theatre    du    pcuple,    Le,    by 

Rolland,  viii 
Theatre  de  Moniparnasse,  50 
Theatre  Moncey,  94 
Theatre  de  Crenelle,  50 
Theatre  des  Gobelins,  50 
Theatre  de  Saint-Denis,  50 
Theatre    Trianon,   50,   52,   54, 

55,  56 
Theatre  Marguera,  50 
Theatre  de  la  Rcpublique,  72 
Theatre   de    la    Porte    Saint- 
Martin,  75 
Theatre  civiquc,  84,  89 
Theatre    populaire    a    Berlin, 

Un.  81 
Theatre  des  Alpes,  84 


Theatre  du  peuple  a  la  co- 
operation des  idccs,  etc.,  86 

Theatre  de  la  Renaissance- 
Gemicr,  89 

Theatre  populaire,  90,  92,  94, 
96 

Thercse  Requin,  96,  97 

Therniidor,  90 

Thesis  plays,  35 

Thibaud,  Anna,  55 

Tiers  etat,  91 

Toekomst,  81 

Tolstoy,  6,  7,  41,  81,  95,  104 

To  the  French  Nation,  quot- 
ed. 68 

To  the  Poets  of  the  19th 
Century,  136 

Translator's  Preface,  i 

Trarieux,  Gabriel,  87,  91 

Treicicme  Etude  de  la  Na- 
ture, 67 

Trente  ans  de  Theatre  and 
Popular  Galas,  49-59 

Triomphatcurs,  Lcs,  85 

Types  of  People's  Drama 
{Melodrama),  1 18-123 

Types  of  People's  Drama 
(Historical  Drama),  124- 
130 

Types  of  People's  Drama 
(Social  Play,  etc.),  131 

U 

Un  contre  tons,  L' ,  vi 


Vadier,  72,  94 

Vandalisme     revolutionnaire, 

Le,  79 
Veber,  Pierre,  91 
Venus  of  Milo,  7 
Vcrhaeren,  Emile,  82,  96 
Vie  de  Saint-Gwcnole,  La,  84 
Vie  publique,  La,  95,  97 
Vignaud,  Jean,  81,  87 
Vigny,  Alfred  de,  28 


146 


INDEX 


Vitet,  125 

Volkstheater  of  Vienna,  81 

Volkstheater  in  der  Schwek, 

Das,  82 
Voltaire,  vi,  28 
Vooruit,  The,  of  Ghent,  82 


Washington,  129 

Wasps,  The,  57 

Weavers,  The,  41,  81,  95,  97 

Wild  Duck,  The,  S3 

Wilhelm  Meister,  70 

Wilhelm  Tell,  40,  69,  82 


W 

Wagner,  38,  42,  43,  122 
Wallensteins  Lager,  135,  136 


Zola,  Emile,  87,  96 
Zwingli,  82 


JEAN-CHRISTOPHE 

Br  ROMAIN  ROLLAND 

Translated  from  the  French  by  Gilbert  Cannan.  In 
three  voiuntes,  each  |2.00. 

This  great  trilogy,  the  life  story  of  a  musician,  at  first 
the  sensation  of  musical  circles  in  Paris,  has  come  to  be  one 
of  the  most  discussed  books  among  literary  circles  in  France, 
England  and  America. 

Each  volume  of  the  American  edition  has  its  own  indi- 
vidual interest,  can  be  understood  without  the  other,  and 
comes  to  a  definite  conclusion. 

The  three  volumes  -with  the  titles  of  the  French  volume^ 
included  are: 

JEAN-CHRISTOPHE 

Dawn — Morning — Youth — Revolt 

JEAN-CHRISTOPHE  IN  PARIS 

The  Makket  Place — Antoinette — The  House 

JEAN-CHRISTOPHE:  JOURNEY'S  END 

Love    and    Friendship — The    Burning    Bush — ^The    New 

Dawn 

Some  Noteworthy  Comments 

"  "Hats  off,  gentlemen — a  genius.'  .  One  may  mention  'Jean-Chris- 
toiAe'  in  the  same  breath  with  Balzac's  'Lost  Illusions';  it  is  as  big 
as  that.  .  It  is  moderate  praise  to  call  it  with  Edmund  Gosse  'the 
ooblest  work  of  fiction  of  the  twentieth  century.'  .  A  book  as 
big,  as  elemental,  as  original  as  though  the  art  of  fiction  began  to- 
day. .  We  have  nothing  comparable  in  English  literature.  .  " — 
Sfringfield  Republican. 

"li  a  man  wishes  to  understand  those  devious  currents  which  make 
tip  the  great,  changing  sea  of  modern  life,  there  is  hardly  a  single 
book  more  illustrative,  more  informing  and  more  inspiring.  — Current 
Opinion, 

*'Mn8t  rank  as  one  of  the  very  few  important  works  of  fiction  of  the 
last  decade.  A  vital  compelling  work.  We  who  love  it  feel  that  it 
will  live." — Independent. 

"The  most  momentous  novel  that  has  come  to  us  from  France,  or 
from  any   other   European   country,   in   a   decade." — Boston    Transcript. 

A  32-page  booklet  about  Remain  Rolland  and  Jean-Chris- 
tophe,  with  portraits  and  complete  reviews,  on  request. 

HENRY      HOLT     AND      COMPANY 

fV£USU£B3  NEW  YORK 


BOOKS     ON     MUSICIANS 

BY  ROMAIN  ROLLAND 

Author  of  "  Jean-Christophe,"  and  called  by  W.  J.  Hender- 
son "  The  most  interesting  of  living  critics  of  Music  and 
Musicians." 

SOME  MUSICIANS  OF  FORMER  DAYS 

Translated  from  the  fourth  French  edition  by  Mary  Blaik- 

LOCK.    $1.50  net. 

The  Place  of  Music  in  General  History;  The  Beginning  of 

Opera;  The  First  Opera  Played  in  Paris;  Notes  on  Lully,  and 

shorter  but  vivid  papers  on  Gluck,  Gretry,  and  Mozart. 

".  .  .  One  of  the  greatest  of  living  musical  scholars.  He  is  also  the 
most  interesting  of  contemporaneous  writers  .  .  .  Written  with  bril- 
liant scholarship,  with  critical  insight  and  with  flashes  of  human  sym- 
pathy and  hiimor.  .  .  .  Every  lover  of  music  should  hasten  to  give 
himself  the  pleasure  of  a  persual  of  this  delightful  volume  which  radi- 
ates learning,  keen  judgment  and  sympathetic  humor." — New  York  Sun. 

MUSICIANS  OF  TO-DAY 

Translated  from  the  iif th  French  edition  by  Mary  Blaiklock. 
With  an  Introduction  by  Claude  Landi.  324  pp.  $1. 50  net. 
Berlioz's  stormy  career  and  music,  Wagner's  "Siegfried" 
and  "Tristan,'"  Saint-Saens,  Vincent  D'Indy,  Hugo  Wolf, 
Debussy's  "  Pelleas  and  Melisande,"  "The  Musical  Move- 
ment in  Paris,"  and  an  absorbing  paper  on  the  Concert-Music 
of  Richard  Strauss,  etc. 

"  May  surely  be  read  with  profit  by  the  musically  uneducated  and 
educated."— /'Aj7»i>  Hale  in  the  Boston  Herald. 

HANDEL 

Translation  and  Introduction  by  A.  Eaglefield  Hull. 
With  musical  extracts,  four  unusual  illustrations,  and  an 
index,     210  pp.    $1.50  net. 

"...  Written  with  enthusiasim,  but  with  judgment  as  well.  The 
story  of  Handel's  life  is  told  simply,  but  with  feeling  and  alacrity  of 
phrase  .  .  .  will  repay  reading.  .  .  ."—Springfield  Repttblican, 

BEETHOVEN 

Translated  by  A.  Eaglefield  Hull.    $1.50  net. 

This  is,  perhaps,  the  most  famous  of  the  non-fiction  musical 
books  by  the  author  of  "Jean-Christophe."  The  translator 
has  added  to  Mr.  Rolland's  famous  monograph,  in  which  he 
treats  of  Beethoven  both  as  musician  and  hero,  so  much  in- 
teresting additional  material  that  this  volume  almost  doubles 
the  size  of  the  original. 

HENRY     HOLT    AND    COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFf 
THEU'       'ER. 


lA  AT  LOS  ANGELEf 
Y  LIBRARY 


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